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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778333">don't want no other shade of blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootyoudog/pseuds/padfootyoudog'>padfootyoudog</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(dw it's lowkey), Alpha Harry Styles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Murder, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis Tomlinson, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Louis Tomlinson, Prophecy, Rimming, Smut, Soulmates, Where to start?, i guess ?, i mean. kind of enemies. don't @ me, like. technically. don't come here looking for anything particularly in-depth or accurate, mention of attempted sexual assault, this is a lot more fun than any of this makes it sound btw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:14:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>43,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootyoudog/pseuds/padfootyoudog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.</p><p>“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”</p><p>“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”</p><p>—</p><p>prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't want no other shade of blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>listen. i mainly did this to see if i could actually finish a fic ? for once in my life ? and i'm lowkey shocked that it happened. anyway the second half of it is kind of rushed due to #life but this is my baby and i love her and i hope you all love her too x</p><p>also this is for whoever submitted prompt 339 ! i hope you still like it even tho i didn't make louis' eyes amethyst :(</p><p>now, i don't think any trigger warnings apply to this fic, but if anyone reads this and thinks of any PLEASE let me know. big love !</p><p>oh and title from taylor swift's 'hoax' - don't @ me</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They arrive at the palace a mere hour before the ceremony is due to start. The King and Queen of Cheshire offer them genuine but rushed greetings, quickly explaining the nature of what they’re about to witness with irritating vagueness, before they’re forced to hurry off to finalise preparations.</p><p>Apparently, it’s the young alpha prince’s twentieth birthday, and as is tradition, apparently, for royal twentieth birthdays, a prophecy will be read, and all that is possible will be done to complete it. Apparently. It’s a bit ridiculous, in Louis’ eyes. The poor prince probably just wants to celebrate his birthday in peace, but instead his special day has been taken over by the reading of a prophecy. Louis would certainly be annoyed about it.</p><p>For his own twentieth there had been a huge ball, and Louis had been allowed to invite all of his friends, even the ones from the village. Of course, his parents had invited their own friends, and the rest of the boring nobles, but after greeting everyone Louis had been able to keep mostly to his own group of people and simply enjoy himself. There had been music, and dancing, and so much cake that Louis feels a bit ill just thinking about it. All he can really remember from the night is lots of champagne, the pain in his feet from dancing too much in his new shoes, and laughter. Louis feels sorry for the prince, having to go through this instead.</p><p>He and his parents have been given front-row seats, as a sign of respect. Louis will admit that as silly as he finds it all, he’s also quite curious. Prophecies are not given much regard in his own kingdom, so the thought that the royal family have organised this entire event simply to find the object of some random prophecy is… odd, to say the least.</p><p>It seems like every omega in the kingdom has been lined up for the event, the queue trailing down the centre of the throne room and out the door. They’re of varying age and status, though all have clearly made attempts to dress up. There’s something uncanny about the line, something similar in their looks, but he can’t quite place it. Not for the first time, Louis wonders exactly what this prophecy says.</p><p>Watching everyone settle in, he realises that this is going to take forever. If he had Zayn here with him, it might be more bearable. Unfortunately, Zayn is his page, and is thus not allowed to show his face at these sorts of events. Louis’ tried many times before to sneak him in, desperate for a companion, but after Louis’ father threatened to send Zayn away after the last time, he hasn’t dared try again.</p><p>Louis doesn’t know how much longer they wait for, but it’s enough time that he finds himself day-dreaming. It’s been a while since breakfast, and his mouth’s watering at the thought of their cook’s chocolate-filled croissants. It’s only when everyone starts to stand around him that he snaps out of it, hastening to follow their lead. Within moments, the King and Queen are entering from a door near the front, in different outfits than earlier, smiling and waving greetings to their people, who clearly adore them. Following them is their son, Prince Harry, and Louis’ mouth almost drops open at the sight.</p><p>The prince is handsome, tall and broad and <em>very</em> alpha, though his outfit is out of the ordinary. He’s resplendent, wearing a pink velvet suit jacket with intricate gold embroidery over a crisp white shirt and black trousers with matching gold stripes up the sides. They make his legs look impossibly long, waist lovely and trim. It’s far from what an alpha in Doncaster what wear, and a surreptitious look around the room suggests that the style isn’t particularly popular here either. With the fabric and the colour, even the cut, it’s just a little too omega, and Louis imagines that most alphas with their delicate sensibilities wouldn’t be able to handle it. Clearly, Prince Harry is quite confident in his identity, which is admirable.</p><p>His face is beautiful too, all high cheekbones and strong jawline, eyes the pale green of a lily pad. His hair is swept into a half-hearted quiff, curling around his fair face in an admittedly attractive way, and his jewel-studded crown sits upon his head so prettily. At least now Louis knows for certain that the rumours of Prince Harry’s looks have not been exaggerated.</p><p>Behind the prince is a woman, and she’s stunning, wearing robes coloured a deep purple which trail behind her as she walks and complement her dark skin beautifully. Her eyes are rimmed with charcoal, lips painted purple to match, and her hair is styled in tight braids that line her scalp and hang down her back. Louis’ never seen anything like it, women in his own kingdom preferring to leave their hair free and unbound. In her arms is a heavy tome, thick and leather-bound. As she passes, people lower their heads in deference.</p><p>“She’s the seer,” his mother murmurs into his ear. He supposes it makes sense, that these people who are so bound by prophecy offer more respect to their seer than their royal family. Then again, the joy and love they showed at the royal family’s entrance was respectful in another way.</p><p>For this ceremony, the prince’s throne has been moved to the centre, where usually he would sit to his father’s left. They all seat themselves, and take a moment to gaze upon their subjects. The seer’s place is behind an altar, and she’s laid the book out in front of her, already flipping to the correct page. At the king’s direction, all gathered seat themselves once again — barring, of course, the omegas in the line.</p><p>Momentarily, the seer watches the line of omegas, eyes narrowing, before her gaze flicks to Louis. Her mouth quirks up a little, and she sends him a subtle wink. He cocks an eyebrow back and offers a small grin, before his attention is drawn back to the king.</p><p>“Twenty years ago, a prophecy was foretold by Seer Antoine,” says the king, voice booming around the room. The crowd’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “It came to them at the exact time of our son, Prince Harry’s, birth, and thus, we were blessed with the knowledge of love. Today, the moment has come for Seer Tariana to speak this prophecy, and for it to be fulfilled.”</p><p>For some reason, there’s a hint of anxiety building in Louis’ chest. He doesn’t know why, but he has a gut feeling that he needs to get out of here as soon as possible.</p><p>Seer Tariana offers the royal family a regal bow, before straightening up to speak. “Thank you, my king.” She pauses to observe the crowd once more, eyes landing on Louis again, before she returns to the tome. Louis straightens in his seat. “It has been seen that in his twentieth year, Prince Harry of Cheshire will be mated to an omega with eyes of the brightest, clearest sapphire and lips pink as a field of roses. They will be loyal, clever, and strong, and a just, kind leader. Together, they and the prince will lead their kingdom into a century of peace and prosperity, and will be as one.” Seer Tatiana bows her head, and the crowd follows suit. “We offer thanks to the goddess for gifting us with such knowledge.”</p><p>They all echo her, offering their thanks to the goddess. Louis swallows hard, feeling mildly uneasy yet somewhat fascinated about this sort of devotion. His mother is stiff beside him, and he knows that she feels similarly. In their own kingdom, there is no such attention to religion as a whole. Individually, their people worship whoever they like and the royal family tend to say nothing about it. This sort of mass worship? Unheard of.</p><p>The king rises, and inclines his head in Seer Tariana’s direction, before facing the audience. “Among us today are all the omegas in the kingdom who are believed to fit within the parameters of the prophecy. You will all approach the prince and Seer Tariana, and at the end, it will be announced whether the One has been found.”</p><p>Whispers arise in the crowd, excited and curious while people crane their heads to stare at those in line. The omegas must’ve been informed of the reason for their presence, as they don’t look surprised. Some even look resigned, while others are clearly hopeful.</p><p>It seems cruel, this, to offer these omegas the possibility of love in such a public way, with the knowledge that only one can have it. He wonders if any of them were given a choice. He’s sure that at least some of them must already have suitors. He imagines the panic they must be feeling at even the slightest possibility of having to give up their existing loves, and feels sick to his stomach.</p><p>When he looks to Prince Harry, wondering about his stance towards this, he finds that the prince is already watching him, mouth parted slightly. Louis raises his eyebrows in return, finding himself irritated about the prince’s role in this entire scenario. Prince Harry blinks rapidly, like he’s bringing himself back into focus, and looks away.</p><p>It takes the better part of an hour to get through the line. The prince has to sit there and greet every single omega while they offer curtseys and sometimes their hands for polite kisses. The entire thing is torturous, and Louis is so bored that he could cry. Similarly, his tummy has started growling. His mother keeps elbowing him, as if he has any control over his stomach’s irritation. He barely even notices when the line ends, too busy dreaming about lunch. Dinner? He doesn’t even know the time. It feels like it’s been years.</p><p>“Thanks to all for your attendance,” the king says, and Louis snaps to attention, delighted at the idea that this is finally over. Honestly, what a terrible way to spend his first day in a new kingdom. He much would’ve preferred to explore everything. “I believe that was every potential omega. We will reconvene soon, after some discussion, and—”</p><p>“Apologies, father, but I don’t believe that was every potential omega,” says Prince Harry. He doesn’t speak particularly loudly, but the way he says it certainly commands attention. Doubly so, since he interrupted the king’s speech.</p><p>His parents’ confusion suggests that the prince is going off script. They send each other looks of mild alarm, before clearly resigning themselves to the situation.</p><p>“How do you mean?” says the king, and Louis can see the apprehension in the lines on his face.</p><p>The prince is confident as he says, “There is an omega right there in the audience, with the loveliest blue eyes, and he has not yet approached us. An oversight, is it not?”</p><p>Louis glances around, curious now that things appear to be getting more exciting. However, everyone else seems to be looking at… him. He almost pulls something when he wrenches his head to look at the prince, who’s staring right back at him. The way he’s fidgeting with his rings tells Louis that he’s trying to reign in his anticipation.</p><p>The king’s looking interested, now, leaning forward in his seat to peer down at Louis, who’s frozen. “Don’t be shy, your Highness. Please, approach,” says the king, smiling kindly.</p><p>There is nothing Louis would like to do less, but his mother is nudging him. The prince’s eyes haven’t left him, and in that moment, Louis feels a flash of pure hatred. He stands, and brushes himself off, before walking up to the royal family, glad now that his mother badgered him into dressing up for the ceremony. At least he can approach with the confidence that he looks good.</p><p>It only takes seconds for him to reach the royal family, but the prince’s gaze is so heated on him that it feels like longer.</p><p>“Prince Louis,” says the king in greeting. “Thank you for indulging us. As you may know, this is my son, Harry. Harry, this is Prince Louis of Doncaster. He and his family are visiting for a couple of weeks.”</p><p>Louis offers them a practiced bow. “I’m honoured to be included,” he says, even though he’s quite ready to throttle the prince. He is eternally grateful for the practice he’s had in maintaining a mask of polite interest during his time as prince, because otherwise everyone would see how murderous he’s feeling. He turns to Prince Harry, and forces himself to say, “It’s lovely to meet you, your Highness.”</p><p>“And you, Prince Louis,” says Prince Harry. He says Louis’ name like he’s savouring it in his mouth, and it’s intimate enough that Louis has to suppress the urge to shiver. The prince waits a moment, eyes running over Louis’ face as if he’s trying to memorise the features. Louis stares right back, hoping the ‘what the fuck’ is clear in his eyes. Harry looks to his father. “Father, there is no need for further deliberation. Prince Louis is the one.”</p><p>“What?” says Louis, forgetting himself, and the word echoes around the room.</p><p>The crowd explodes into chatter, and Louis instinctively steps back, sure that his heart has stopped beating. He looks to Seer Tariana, who’s still grinning at him, this time with a smug sort of warmth, and comes to the realisation that she knew exactly how this was going to turn out from the beginning.</p><p>If he were in his own castle, he’d be running. As is, if he ran now it would be a fucking diplomatic disaster. Then again, if this isn’t already a diplomatic disaster, Louis doesn’t know what is.</p><p>Prince Harry is smiling, dimples appearing in his cheeks. His eyes are soft and pleased as he stands and takes Louis’ hands in his own, the gentle touching sending goose bumps running over Louis’ skin. The prince’s hands are smooth and encapsulate Louis’ own with ease.</p><p>“I’m so glad I found you,” he says.</p><p>Louis doesn’t know what to do, so he says nothing. The lack of response makes the prince’s brow crease, but his eyes are still crinkled at the corners with happiness. The king says something, and everyone cheers, but Louis’ starting to feel unsteady on his feet, suddenly grateful for Prince Harry’s firm grip on his hands.</p><p>After that, everything seems to happen in a haze. He’s hurried into another room, some sort of living area, and seated on a leather couch that squeaks beneath his trousers. Someone hands him hot tea, which he clutches desperately to his chest, feeling like it’s his only lifeline now that his entire world has been rocked. In moments, his parents are there too, and they’ve never looked happier in their lives.</p><p>“How exciting!” his mother squeals, taking the tea out of his hands before trapping him in a tight hug. Her scent is comforting, sweet and fresh, and Louis takes a moment to breathe it in before he extracts himself from her arms.</p><p>“You’re very lucky, Louis,” says his father, smiling. He claps Louis on the back. “You’ve done well.”</p><p>“We need to leave,” says Louis, and his parents pause.</p><p>“Whatever do you mean, sweetheart?” says his mother, smile beginning to drop.</p><p>“I don’t want this to happen, this can’t happen, we need to go,” says Louis, breath quickening at the reminder that his freedom is at risk the longer they stay here. “That was all a fluke, I’m not interested.”</p><p>“Louis, be quiet,” his mother says in a harsh whisper, and Louis rocks back like he’s been slapped. But then she continues, “The royal family will be here in a few moments. You need to get yourself together for this meeting, and we will discuss this afterwards. Do you understand?”</p><p>Louis swallows, and takes a few deep breaths. His mother hands him back his tea, and he sips at it to calm himself. The heat makes him feel better, body feeling less shaky. It’s just in time, too, because the royal family enter barely a minute later. Louis and his family make to rise from their seats but the queen waves for them to stay seated.</p><p>Louis makes reluctant eye contact with the prince, who beams back at him, and chooses the seat directly across from Louis. He’s close enough now that Louis can just scent him, but nothing specific, just general warmth. Louis hopes that his own scent isn’t broadcasting his anxiety, but by the way the prince frowns, he thinks that it might be.</p><p>“How are you feeling, Prince Louis?” says the queen, voice gentle and sweet. “I know you weren’t expecting to be a part of the ceremony, nor were you warned of the nature of it.”</p><p>Louis forces a smile, and says, “I’m a little bit shocked, your Majesty. This all feels like a dream.” Or a nightmare.</p><p>“I’m sure it does, my boy,” says the king, chuckling. “Harry is so happy, as are we. It’s wonderful that our ties to Doncaster will be even stronger, now. And how fortunate that Prince Louis will be staying for a while! It will be lovely for you both to get to know each other before you bond.”</p><p>Louis almost chokes on his tea, and Prince Harry sends his father a look of reproach.</p><p>“Father, could I speak with Prince Louis alone? I think it might be easier for us to converse without an audience,” says Prince Harry.</p><p>Louis very much does not want that. At all. </p><p>The king looks hesitant, but Louis’ father smiles, and waves them off. “Oh, go on. Ten minutes, boys, and not a moment more.”</p><p>The prince stands, and offers his hand to Louis, who has no choice but to take it. Prince Harry escorts him into the room next door, which is almost a mirror image of the last room. When the door shuts behind them, their parents are still audible. It reassures Louis that if he were to scream, his parents would come running. Though he’s still anxious, he’s confident that he’s safe enough for now, so he takes a seat. Every part of him desperately wants to curl up in the armchair, but instead he crosses on leg over the other, and waits.</p><p>“Prince Louis,” says the prince, once again sitting opposite him.</p><p>Now that they’re alone, his scent is easier to parse — strong and rich, like burning wood on a fireplace, or perhaps a mug of spiced hot chocolate. They’re two wildly different scents but similar in that they both offer a sense of warmth. Many of Louis’ best memories have been sitting with his family, drinking hot chocolate by the fire. He wonders if Harry could ever offer the same comfort. </p><p>Prince Harry lets out a breath, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I wanted to apologise.” His expression is contrite, and he’s chewing at his bottom lip, which is unfairly distracting.</p><p>“What for?” says Louis, once it becomes clear that the prince won’t continue without prompting. He can’t imagine that the prince would be sorry about supposedly finding his soulmate, so Louis’ interested to hear his response.</p><p>“Dragging you up there,” says the prince. “You weren’t— well, it was unkind of me to put you on the spot in front of so many people. Especially since we don’t know each other. I just… I saw you, and I was so excited, because I knew immediately, you know? And I couldn’t help but— I just didn’t want you to slip away. My deepest apologies, I wasn’t thinking.” The prince lowers his gaze, sheepish, before glancing back up at Louis. “Do you feel it as well? Did you know, when you looked me in the eye?”</p><p>Once again, Louis has no idea how to respond, because the truth of it is that he has no idea what Prince Harry is talking about. It’s safe to say that he felt absolutely nothing when he saw the prince, apart from a mild appreciation of his good looks. As is, he’s certain that if he repeated that to the prince, it wouldn’t be taken particularly well.</p><p>“Um,” says Louis, scrambling for something to say. Unfortunately, he’s not a natural liar. He’s able to when necessary, but it’s not a reflex for him. Then again, that’s probably a good thing — he doesn’t want to go about giving Prince Harry false hope. “No, not immediately,” is what he settles on, reasoning that it’s not a lie.</p><p>The prince looks a bit disappointed, but bounces back quickly. “How long are you visiting for? Will you be staying over winter?” </p><p>“No,” says Louis, praying that his parents come and save him soon. “Not over winter, just for a couple of weeks. I’m only really visiting for the winter markets, I’ve heard they’re incredible.” Yes, good, a safe topic.</p><p>The prince’s face lights up. “Oh, that’s excellent! I’ll escort you, I love the winter markets!” He leans in, glancing around surreptitiously. “Between you and me, the chestnut vendor always fills my bag with more chestnuts than everyone else, so I’ve got you covered. But don’t tell anyone! It’s meant to be a secret.”</p><p>Unexpectedly, Louis snorts out a laugh. It’s sweet, really, how excited the prince is about all of this — even though Louis wants no part of it. He feels a bit bad, honestly. He’s going to break this poor kid’s heart when he leaves.</p><p>“Your secret’s safe with me, your Highness,” he says. The prince is beaming.</p><p>“Please, call me Harry,” he says. “I think we’re a bit past titles, don’t you?”</p><p>Louis pauses, because that’s a bit too familiar considering Louis’ burgeoning rejection. Luckily, there’s a knock on the door, and someone calling through that their time’s up. Their parents are laughing together, and it grates on Louis’ nerves a little that the laughter is likely about him and Harry.</p><p>Harry looks disappointed at the interruption, but Louis’ relieved, and heads through immediately to join his parents.</p><p>The royal family ends up leaving after a few minutes, allowing the Tomlinsons time to discuss their affairs. Harry leaves him with a kiss on the knuckles, and tells him to come to his rooms if he needs anything (“I think you’re only a few rooms down from me, so you’re welcome to visit at any time!”). Louis keeps his forced smile on his face until they all leave, and then turns to his parents.</p><p>“I won’t do this,” he says. “It’s ridiculous. This was meant to be a holiday, for god’s sake! I wasn’t expecting a bloody arranged marriage!”</p><p>“Darling, Prince Harry is far from repulsive, and he seems sweet enough,” says his mother, looking far too reasonable. “You could do worse.”</p><p>Louis rolls his eyes, even though his mother has been working hard to break him of the habit. “I don’t want to get married yet. I don’t need an alpha. I especially don’t need some bloody prophecy trying to control my life. I wasn’t even meant to be a candidate! It’s a joke. We don’t even believe in their goddess, for goodness’ sake!”</p><p>His mother huffs. “Louis, you’re twenty-two years of age. You should’ve been married off years ago, like a normal omega. The only reason you haven’t is because we were allowing you your freedom. It’s time to look to the future, and that future starts here, with Prince Harry.”</p><p>Louis groans. “Mother, how many times must I tell you? Marrying omegas off as soon as they come of age is an antiquated tradition! I have a mind of my own, and I certainly don’t need to be leashed by a husband. Please tell Prince Harry that I reject his offer and leave me be!”</p><p>“We will do no such thing,” says his father. His father isn’t particularly verbose, so when he does speak, Louis tends to listen. “We have not come all this way for you to immediately reject the Prince when he chose you specifically. Especially when your reasoning is so ridiculous. You don’t even know the boy! At the very least, you must spend time with the Prince and offer a good reason as to your rejection before we will even consider allowing it. Think about what you will do to the relationship between Cheshire and Doncaster if you follow through with this rejection! It will be absolutely ruined, and our people will suffer for it.” Louis opens his mouth to protest, but his father shushes him. “You will be staying here for a couple of weeks anyway, so you might as well get to know the boy if only for the sake of diplomatic relations. Do you understand?”</p><p>Oh, Louis understands, alright. He understands that there’s no clear way out of this undesirable situation. “I understand, father,” he says reluctantly. “Do not maintain any expectations, however,” he warns.</p><p>His father raises his eyebrows. “My only expectation is that you will honour the fact that we are guests in the Styles’ home, and act accordingly as a representative of our kingdom. Now leave us, I’m tired of your whining.”</p><p>*</p><p>“I’ve gone this long without having to worry about suitors, and now this! A bloody prophecy, can you believe it?” Louis’ starting to slosh wine out of his glass, gestures a little too boisterous as he recites the occurrences of the day.</p><p>Zayn’s nodding along like the dutiful best friend-slash-attendant that he is, looking appropriately sympathetic. “At least the prince is nice. Not exactly ugly, either.”</p><p>Louis puts down his glass, and collapses onto the bed with a groan. “Fucking Prince Harry is going to be the bane of my existence, I can already tell. He’s fucking <em>excited</em> about the prophecy! He <em>wants</em> this to work!”</p><p>“God forbid,” says Zayn, but he sounds entirely too dry, so Louis is forced to get off the bed and sit on him. Zayn tries to push him off, but Louis knows how to cling.</p><p>“We need to do something. Prince Harry seems entirely too used to getting his way.”</p><p>With those curls and that pouty mouth, it’s clear that Prince Harry is just another spoiled alpha prince. Louis simply has no time for it. But what can he possibly do? He’s in a foreign castle, surrounded by strangers, and his own family are only encouraging the match. Similarly, he can’t risk his own kingdom’s diplomatic ties with the Styles family. Perhaps he’ll fake a kidnapping and run away.</p><p>“Sounds familiar,” says Zayn. Louis blows a wet raspberry onto his neck, and with a cry of disgust, Zayn finally succeeds in toppling Louis to the ground. “It’ll be alright, Lou. I’m with you, at least, and you know that your sisters would probably be on your side too. Stay strong.”</p><p>“I think I will simply fake an illness and stay in my chambers until it’s time to leave,” says Louis, splaying himself out on the rug. Zayn pokes at his stomach with his foot. Louis slaps him away. “It seems like the simplest option.”</p><p>“A flawless plan,” says Zayn.</p><p>“Do you have any alternatives?” Louis snaps.</p><p>“Speak to the Prince? Maybe once he realises you don’t want this, he’ll end it all,” suggests Zayn. “S’not like there aren’t a dozen other families here already with their ‘sapphire-eyed’ children.”</p><p>To Louis, this sounds like a very good idea. Now that he knows none of his own people are on his side, barring Zayn, of course, it would likely be best to go straight to the source and sort all of this out before it goes any further. And Zayn’s right! There are plenty of other omegas who could just as easily fulfil the prophecy. Which is how he finds himself knocking on the door to Prince Harry’s chambers only a quarter of an hour later.</p><p>The prince’s scent is strong where it leaks out from under the door, warm and comforting like sitting under a blanket beside a roaring fire. Louis takes a deep breath in, shoulders relaxing. He tenses up again, however, when the door opens.</p><p>The person standing in front of him isn’t Prince Harry.</p><p>“Your Highness,” says Not Prince Harry, sounding surprised. He has kind brown eyes and well-kept stubble, and irritatingly enough, his entire body is blocking the doorway so that Louis can’t see in behind him. “May I assist you?”</p><p>“Oh,” says Louis, trying to look confused and contrite enough for this man to help him. “I was just looking for Prince Harry. Are these not his chambers?” They must be, they smell exactly like him.</p><p>“Liam, who is it?” someone calls out, and Liam holds the door further open to reveal Harry sitting in an armchair, a game of cards set out on the table in front of him. He’s swirling wine around in his goblet, and Louis’ eyes can’t help but linger on the rings adorning his elegant fingers. He doesn’t know what it is, but they make Harry’s hands look particularly attractive, and it’s difficult to keep from imagining those hands on Louis’ body.</p><p>When Harry looks up from his hand, he’s frowning. His eyes go wide when he sees Louis, and he scrambles up immediately, dropping his cards and putting his goblet on the table. It’s only been a few hours, but Louis had forgotten how broad Harry is.</p><p>“Prince Louis,” he says, making his way to the door. His scent gets stronger as he approaches, making Louis’ throat go a bit dry. <em>Fucking hell</em>. “Are you alright? I wasn’t expecting a visit.”</p><p>“My apologies for disturbing you,” Louis says, and then stops, getting distracted by the way the cut of the prince’s shirt emphasizes his throat. He wonders, briefly, what the prince’s skin would taste like. Smoky, like embers? Or bittersweet, like dark chocolate?</p><p>“Don’t be silly, I said that you could visit whenever,” says Harry. There’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Would you like to come in?”</p><p>“Yes, please,” says Louis, and the two men shuffle apart to let him through.</p><p>The sitting room is large, done up in pale pinks and golds with a lot of plush furniture. It’s well-lit, windows lining the walls, and beside the ginormous marble fireplace are tall bookshelves that are filled with a colourful array of hardbacks and stacked with various knick-knacks and souvenirs. At least the books suggest some form of intellect, unless they’re just for show. Louis wonders what his favourite novels are.</p><p>“Please, take a seat. Would you like some wine?” Harry wanders around the room, picking out a new bottle of wine and another goblet. “Are you hungry? Shall I ask someone to fetch some food?”</p><p>“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” says Louis. He chooses a pink velvet armchair to sink into, and it’s a sensory delight. Soft fabrics are immensely soothing for him, as they are for most omegas, and are useful in new places for calming anxiety. Not that he’s anxious. “It looks like you were both mid-game.”</p><p>Harry is quick to shake his head. “No, not at all! In fact, Liam was just leaving.”</p><p>Liam looks like he wasn’t aware of that information. “Was I?” he says, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“Yes, you were just saying you feel sick,” says Harry. His eyes are wide and innocent. “You should visit the healer, Liam, that cough sounds terrible.”</p><p>“He’s not coughing.” Louis’ eyes flick between the two, amused at how terrible of an actor the prince appears to be. He wonders how such a bad liar could possibly succeed as a king.</p><p>Harry glares at Liam, who immediately lets out a few small coughs and does his best to look tragic. The prince pats him on the back.</p><p>“Yes, I feel terrible,” Liam says, apologetic, as he’s gently pushed towards the door. “It was lovely to meet you, Your Highness, but I’m afraid I have to be off. Bye, Harry!” And then he’s gone, out the door and down the corridor.</p><p>“Feel better soon, Liam!” Harry calls out, before returning his attention to Louis. “Now. Wine?”</p><p>“No, thank you,” says Louis, wanting his wits about him for this conversation. “I actually came here to tell you that I’m probably not the one you’re looking for. With the prophecy, and everything.”</p><p>Harry pauses, brow creasing. “What makes you think that?” he says, and settles himself down in the opposite armchair to Louis’. “Did someone say something to you?”</p><p>“Look, I thought I was only coming here for a bit of a holiday mixed in with the usual diplomacy stuff. I didn’t realise this prophecy was a thing here, and that this would turn into some sort of arranged marriage situation.”</p><p>Harry looks wary. “Prince Louis,” he says, “this is not simply ‘some sort of arranged marriage situation’. I do not have a single doubt that you are the other half of this prophecy. It speaks of an omega with eyes of the brightest sapphire and lips pink as a field of roses, loyal, clever, and strong. All I have to do is look into the blue of your eyes, and it all becomes clear. I’m sure you’ll feel the same once we’ve spent some time together. Forgive my boldness, but I can already smell your attraction, just as you can likely smell mine. There is certainly potential here, at the very least, whether you believe in the prophecy or not.”</p><p>Louis flushes, scowling. He <em>can</em> smell Harry’s attraction, rich and sweet on his skin. “Firstly, it’s rude to point out someone’s scent like that. Secondly, I’m not interested in a relationship. I am quite happy on my own, and I have a good life in my own kingdom. I don’t need you and your bloody fake prophecy messing everything up.” He sits back in his seat, resisting the urge to fold his arms across his chest. His mother’s constantly telling him how obviously confrontational the gesture is.</p><p>Harry’s silent for a bit. His brow has relaxed again while he thinks. Louis likes the way the daylight highlights his cheekbones.</p><p>“Why are you so sure?” asks Harry suddenly, making Louis flinch at the break in silence. “That the prophecy is fake? That it isn’t discussing you? Do you have a partner back home, or something? A suitor?” He looks like he’s struggling to keep his expression calm as he says it.</p><p>Louis shakes his head. “I just know it isn’t me,” he says. “I’m no one special, and I’ve no interest in mating anyone yet. It can’t be about me.”</p><p>Harry seems to relax at that, leaning back in his seat. “So, you have no good reason then?”</p><p>Louis frowns, wondering if it’s too late to make up the existence of a suitor back home, if that’s what it’ll take for Harry to give up. “Not wanting to do this is reason enough, is it not? In my kingdom we don’t put much stock in prophecies.”</p><p>“You not believing in prophecies doesn’t make them false,” Harry points out.</p><p>“Perhaps,” says Louis, tilting his chin up. “Doesn’t make them true, either.”</p><p>Harry looks at him, clearly doubtful. “Okay,” is all he says.</p><p>“It doesn’t,” Louis insists, hating the feeling that he’s being mocked.</p><p>Harry says nothing, but his lips are starting to curl with amusement. Louis lets out an irritated huff.</p><p>“Listen,” he says, trying to calm himself. “If you leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone. How does that sound?”</p><p>“I fail to see how I benefit from that,” says Harry, and drat, he’s laughing.</p><p>“Your Highness,” says Louis, now annoyed beyond belief.</p><p>“Prince Louis,” says Harry, dimples popping from the force of his grin. “Why don’t we simply spend time together during your visit. If you still feel the same by the end, no hard feelings, and we’ll both have made a new friend. Don’t worry yourself. I’m happy to take things as they come.”</p><p>“No,” says Louis, feeling like he’s lost track of this conversation at some stage. Spending more time together is the exact opposite of a solution.</p><p>“You’re saying you’d reject my hand of friendship, therefore damaging the diplomatic relations between our kingdoms and losing your kingdom an ally?” says Harry, face schooled into innocence. “After you’ve already insulted our customs?”</p><p>If Louis wasn’t so well-trained, he’d be letting out an inarticulate shriek of frustration. He’s sure his fury is visible in his eyes.</p><p>“Of course not,” says Louis through a tight smile. It’s rare that he’s backed into a corner, because he’s generally the type to kick and scratch until he gets what he wants. But he’s smart enough to know that in this situation, where there’s literally no one on his side, he needs to do this differently. He’s annoyed, but still confident that though he appears to be losing the first battle, he’ll win the war.</p><p>“Excellent!” says Harry with a clap of his hands. “Then you won’t protest when I request that you join me on a walk through the gardens tomorrow?”</p><p>His satisfaction smells like sweetened coffee. Louis envisages stabbing him. He keeps a pretty dagger in his boot, and he’s been practicing a lot lately, so he’s sure that he could kill the prince within moments. Maybe.</p><p>“I suppose not,” says Louis, glaring. He stands, then, deciding that he needs to leave before the occurrence of anything else counterproductive. Harry stands along with him. “Thank you for your time, Your Highness. I will see you at dinner.”</p><p>“Thank you for coming to see me, Prince Louis. I almost cannot wait until dinner to see you again.” Harry looks to his feet, and then looks up, blushing, as he opens the door for Louis to leave. “Forgive my forwardness, but your presence is a balm to the soul.” </p><p>Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes as he passes. The two guards by the door are pointedly not listening.</p><p>“Goodbye, your Highness.” He’s sure that his tone communicates his feelings on the matter. Harry’s forwardness is unwanted generally, but especially now, when it only acts as salt in the wound.</p><p>“I thought I asked you to call me Harry!” calls Harry before Louis can get away.</p><p>Louis stops, and turns back around. Harry’s smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners in a handsome, joyful way. Rage seethes in Louis’ chest.</p><p>“Alright, Harry,” he says. “Farewell.” He starts walking again.</p><p>“Wait! May I do the same for you?” </p><p>Fucking <em>hell</em>, this boy will not give up. Louis wants to thwack him.</p><p>“That would be quite improper, I think,” he answers, and hurries away before Harry can say anything else.</p><p>Clearly, this is all going to be a lot harder than previously imagined.</p><p>*</p><p>The feast is huge, hall filled with people and tables piled with food. There’s a band in the corner playing music, but the sound’s largely overcome by chatter. Louis’ been seated next to Harry, of course, and though Harry’s trying his best to maintain conversation, they keep getting interrupted by well-wishers.</p><p>While the clamour means he can avoid Harry’s chatter, without the distraction of conversation Louis can’t shake the discomfort of everyone’s stares. They all want to get a good look at the prince’s ‘chosen’, and though he’s used to being stared at, he’s still uncomfortable given the unfamiliar territory. He thinks that Harry’s noticed his unease, because he’s been letting off calming pheromones for a while now. They’re not as strong as they would be in an enclosed setting, but still soothing in a vague surface sense.</p><p>Around halfway through the evening the dancing starts up, and Louis longs to be able to join in, but there are still several people waiting to offer their congratulations to Harry, and by extension, Louis. His father has been giving him stern glances all night, probably as a reminder that Louis needs to be behaving, so he doesn’t dare duck out early.</p><p>Louis holds in a sigh as a blonde omega with a heart-shaped face approaches. Her dress is a silky blue to match her eyes and embroidered to high heaven, showing her noble status. She curtsies very prettily and says, “Prince Harry and Prince Louis! Congratulations on finding each other! What a blessed day.”</p><p>Harry beams at her. “Thank you, Lady Ava! It’s wonderful to see you again.” He turns to Louis. “Last time we had a ball Lady Ava danced circles around me. She’s an excellent dancer, much better than I am.”</p><p>“You flatter me, your Highness,” says Lady Ava, returning his smile. “I’m afraid I was showing off a bit, last time. Perhaps with a different partner, you’d be able to display your own skills more.”</p><p>“Perhaps,” says Harry, giving Louis a subtle, fond look. “Anyway, enough of us, you should be out there, showing everyone how it’s done.”</p><p>“Oh, I would love to, but I’m afraid I’m lacking a partner,” says Lady Ava, giving them an exaggerated, joking pout. “Perhaps one of you would care to dance?”</p><p>It’s bold of her to ask, not only as an omega, but as an omega who’s lower in rank than both Harry and Louis. It makes Louis like her immensely.</p><p>Harry politely declines, citing his still-full plate of dinner and the remaining line of well-wishers. Louis, on the other hand, seizes the opportunity to escape.</p><p>“I would love to dance, actually, Lady Ava,” he says, offering his most charming grin. Harry stills beside him. “If the offer’s open.”</p><p>“Your Highness,” begins the Queen of Cheshire, but Harry interrupts.</p><p>“It’s alright, mum. You go and enjoy yourself, Prince Louis,” he says.</p><p>Louis doesn’t understand what just happened. Lady Ava’s eyes dart between them all, clearly wondering if she’s just made a mistake, but her etiquette classes seem to take over as the silence stretches, and soon enough, Louis’ escorting her onto the dance floor, her hand cool in his. It takes him a moment to get into the headspace of leading the dance, omegas generally being the ones following, but once he’s there he and Lady Ava move with a fluid grace. She smells crisp, like a winter’s morning, and it’s lovely and refreshing.</p><p>He’s quite good at dancing, having taken lessons since he was young, but it’s certainly off-putting to feel Harry’s heated gaze on him whenever he so much as changes the positioning of his hand on the lady’s waist. Luckily, Lady Ava is an excellent partner, very in-tune to Louis’ movements and constantly adjusting her own to suit. He can see now why Harry said she danced circles around him. </p><p>“How has your day been, Lady Ava?” asks Louis, when the music slows down a little and it’s less excusable to dance in silence.</p><p>Lady Ava laughs. “Dull,” she says, and Louis grins at her boldness. “Apologies for my candour, but unfortunately, I happen to be a blue-eyed omega. Thus, I had to stand in that godforsaken line for what felt like forever, just to make certain that I wasn’t the prince’s chosen. I have never regretted my colouring more.” She’s smiling as she says it, so there are clearly no hard feelings. “My heels were <em>not</em> meant for standing. Or even sitting, really. But I suppose that’s my fault, my maid warned me not to wear them. They were just <em>so</em> pretty, I couldn’t resist.”</p><p>“I did feel sorry for you all, having to stand that entire time,” Louis confides. “If it makes you feel better, you move so gracefully it’s impossible to tell that your feet are hurting.”</p><p>Lady Ava smirks a little. “I’ve ingested so much wine already that I’m afraid I can’t even <em>feel</em> my feet anymore,” she says, and it’s not even that funny, but for some reason the comment has Louis cackling with laughter, loud enough that couples are giving them quelling glances.</p><p>“Perhaps I should be catching up,” he says. “So that I don’t have to feel the weight of all these stares.”</p><p>“Perhaps they wouldn’t be staring as much if you were dancing with the prince instead of me,” is all she says, eyes glinting in the light. They are awfully lovely, really. If only fate had chosen Lady Ava for Harry instead of Louis.</p><p>He makes a face and twirls her around. “From what you’ve told me, the prince would be simply unable to keep up with my dancing,” he says, keeping his tone light. “However, you are right. I’m afraid I will have to return to Prince Harry, before everyone starts gossiping. But let us make the most of this song, first.”</p><p>They spin and spin until they’re giggling and flushed, and as soon as the strings fade out, Louis escorts Lady Ava off the dance floor. He lays a polite kiss on her delicate knuckles, and goes to leave, but she grips his wrist with gentle fingers.</p><p>“I’d like for us to meet again,” she says. “We will have tea, yes? I believe we will become great friends.”</p><p>Louis smiles at her. “Of course,” he says. “I’m here for two weeks, so I’m sure a friend will not go amiss. Thank you again for the dance, Lady Ava. I’ll see you soon, hopefully.”</p><p>When he returns to the table, his parents are eyeing him with mild displeasure, and Harry’s speaking quietly with the king and queen. He doesn’t look annoyed per se, but his shoulders are tense under the velvet of his suit jacket.</p><p>“Did you enjoy your dance, darling?” asks his mother, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yes, I did,” says Louis. An attendant has refilled his glass, so he sips at his wine. It’s the good stuff. According to the king, it was prepared specifically for this night. “Lady Ava is very nice.”</p><p>“She is,” says Harry, abandoning his conversation with his parents. His face is sincere as he says, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Lady Ava used to be a ballerina, but then she got hurt, and hasn’t danced formally since. I think that’s why she especially loves balls, she has the opportunity to stretch her legs a little. Show us all up.”</p><p>Louis smiles. “I love dancing, and Lady Ava was an excellent partner.” Noticing his mother’s glare, he reluctantly adds, “Perhaps you may like to join me for a dance once I’ve rested a little?”</p><p>With the offer, the tension leaves the air. There’s a sense of relief all around them, and Louis wonders just how much his dance with Lady Ava bothered the royals. It’s odd, and he feels like perhaps he’s done the wrong thing, though he can’t fathom why. There is clearly no romantic interest between he and Lady Ava, and according to everyone else, he’s promised to Harry anyway. It’s ridiculous that they would expect him to stay by Harry the entire evening, when he could be mingling with the crowds and meeting new people.</p><p>After a quick, ordinary dance with Harry, who is not terrible at dancing but isn’t particularly good either (not helped by Louis constantly trying to distance their bodies and Harry constantly watching his feet), Louis pleads exhaustion to avoid the rest of the feast. His parents wave him off, satisfied by the dance, and Harry lets him go with a reminder of their meeting tomorrow. Soon enough he’s back in his chambers, mind spinning with possibilities.</p><p>“You know you were meant to dance with the prince first, right?” says Zayn when he enters.</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“It’s tradition in this kingdom. All the maids were gossiping about it. Once everyone had given their congratulations, you and Harry would’ve had to dance together. Except you danced with that girl instead.”</p><p>“They didn’t say anything,” says Louis, frowning, except that the queen <em>did</em> try to say something. “No matter, we have other things to worry about.”</p><p>They decide that if he’s going to avoid this marriage the first thing he needs to do is make himself seem unappealing. Not so unappealing that their diplomatic relationships are impacted, but enough that Harry thinks twice about listening to this godforsaken prophecy. After changing into their nightclothes, he and Zayn sit beside the fire and make a list of things that would instantly put them off potential relationships. There are a few arguments, and a lot of crossed out suggestions, but Louis goes to sleep anticipating his success.</p><p>*</p><p>Louis starts by arriving late to their walk. Harry had asked him to be at the back door by eleven, so he arrives at eleven-thirty. It’s thoroughly out of character for him, having been taught his whole life that tardiness is the height of rudeness and that it shows a lack of respect for whoever you’re meeting. As such, he generally makes a point to arrive five minutes early to his engagements. Now, however, with Harry, he needs to get into the habit of being tardy.</p><p>When he finally arrives, Harry’s leaning against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. His arms are crossed, brow creased and eyes out-of-focus, as if in the middle of a daydream. He’s clearly been waiting a while, suggesting that he was on time, if not early. In different circumstances, Louis might feel bad. </p><p>Instead, he stops in front of the prince and puts on a smile. “Harry,” he greets, loudly enough that Harry flinches from shock and bangs his head against the stone wall with a muffled curse. Louis jumps back. “Shit, are you alright? I didn’t mean to scare you.”</p><p>Harry straightens, hand going up to rub at his head. He’s wincing as he touches it, and Louis cringes, hoping that he hasn’t accidentally given the prince a brain injury.</p><p>“That hurt,” says Harry. His face has crumpled into a pout, scent gone a bit sour from the pain. He looks young and disgruntled, and it’s unexpectedly amusing, though Louis still feels a bit bad.</p><p>“Do we need to go to the infirmary?” asks Louis, stepping a little closer. “You’re not bleeding, are you?”</p><p>“No, no, I don’t need the infirmary,” says Harry, and it’s like Louis can physically see the progression of his next thought from his brain to his mouth, face going cheeky as he adds, “But maybe you could kiss it better?”</p><p>Louis rolls his eyes, and steps back again. “Keep dreaming, love.”</p><p>“No need for encouragement,” returns Harry, apparently quite cheerful now. His dimples have deepened a criminal amount, making him look sweet and cherubic — two things Louis <em>knows</em> the prince is not. “You were already in my dreams last night.”</p><p>“Really? You were in my nightmares.”</p><p>“Still means I’ve been on your mind.”</p><p>Louis rolls his eyes, cursing himself for falling into that one.</p><p>“Shall we start walking? I think my muscles have begun to atrophy after standing there for forty minutes,” says Harry, offering his arm.</p><p>Louis ignores his arm in favour of giving him a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, innocent omega look. “Oh, I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”</p><p>Harry’s gaze is on his mouth, so Louis bites at his lip. Harry snaps out of it, flushing red.</p><p>“No, no! Not at all. It’s fine,” he says, flustered. “I was just— let’s go, before the sun disappears.”</p><p>He steps aside, and gestures for Louis to go first. The gravel path crunches beneath Louis’ feet, mingling with the quiet chirps of birds.</p><p>“Is the weather meant to be bad today?” he wonders. The sky’s cloudless. The winter sunshine is weak but warming, and it makes the garden look soft and lovely, though many of the flowers have disappeared in preparation for winter. His breath mists the air.</p><p>“I believe so,” says Harry, brows drawing together as he stares up at the sky. “The gardener warned me. He’s rarely wrong, but I suppose we’ll see.”</p><p>Louis hums in response, and starts walking. Harry hastens to follow.</p><p>“How, um. Did you sleep well?” he asks, hands clasped behind his back.</p><p>“Quite,” says Louis. He ponders staying silent, but then thinks that that would be far too omega for his tastes. He wonders if inane prattle could be the way to get Harry to back off. He adds, “the mattress is very soft, though the blankets were a bit scratchy for my taste. In Doncaster every single blanket in the kingdom is made from cashmere, the superior fabric. Do you use cashmere in Cheshire?”</p><p>Harry goes to respond, but Louis cuts him off, trying to keep his smirk from his face.</p><p>“No, I don’t suppose you do. Cashmere is very warm, and very light — none of this rough, heavy wool that you use. Though I will say that the sheets were simply divine, there’s nothing better than the feel of silk on skin. I was telling Zayn about it this morning at breakfast, but he informed me that his own sheets were cotton. Cotton! I told him that that simply would not do for my personal attendant, and have since demanded he have the same bedding as me, barring the scratchy blankets. I sincerely believe the scratchy blankets are the reason my dreams were so restless, I’m sure there must be some connection between physical irritation and mental agitation. I kept dreaming of playing hide and seek with my sisters, the little devils, they all have a terrible habit of finding excellent hiding places and leaving me to wander the castle for hours on end trying to find them! I tell you, I thought that these weeks away would give me a well-earned break from hide and seek, but I fear that the game still caught up with me. My sisters will be simply ecstatic to hear that they plague my mind even from afar. I trust you slept equally as well, your Highness?”</p><p>At the end of Louis’ monologue, Harry looks a bit bewildered, but mostly amused. “Certainly, Prince Louis. Now that we’ve found each other, I think I’ll sleep well for the rest of my life.”</p><p>Louis curses Harry’s charm, but reluctantly admires the easy way that he swerved Louis’ entire speech. He must’ve excelled in his politics lessons.</p><p>“That makes one of us, then,” Louis grumbles, and Harry looks even more entertained. At least the crisp outside air masks Harry’s scent a little more, the warmth of it only just reaching him. Certainly not enough to cloud his judgement.</p><p>“Tell me, my prince, do you spend much time in the gardens in Doncaster?” Harry asks, deftly changing the subject. “I like to come out here when everything seems a little too overwhelming. There’s something about sitting in the grass that makes it all better. Or perhaps it’s the sunlight? I can’t help but feel at peace.”</p><p>Louis understands. He’s generally not allowed outside much, because he’s told that omegas aren’t meant to play in the dirt or run around in the sun, but he sneaks out when he can to play football with his friends or have small picnics with his sisters. He loves being outside, and he often finds himself staring out the window instead of paying attention during his boring etiquette classes.</p><p>“Can’t stand the outdoors, actually,” he says, just to be contrary.</p><p>“Oh dear,” Harry says, smirking. “That’s alright, I’m sure you’ll get through this somehow. The company improves things immeasurably, wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>“Your Highnesses!” someone calls from behind them, and when they turn, Louis realises that it’s Lady Ava from the feast, hurrying to catch up. They stand and wait. Her cloak is flowing behind her, heavy and fur-lined, the colour a dusty pink. It suits her well, and matches the frost-bitten pink of her cheeks.</p><p>“Lady Ava,” greets Harry warmly. “Lovely to see you again! What brings you to the gardens?”</p><p>“And you, your Highness! I’m just gathering some flowers for my mother, you know how she loves roses,” says Lady Ava, a little breathless.</p><p>“How delightful,” says Harry, dimples deepening. “The greenhouse is probably the best place to be when it’s this cold. There, or in front of a fire.”</p><p>“And yet, we’re meandering in the garden,” says Louis, quite pleasantly. Harry looks mildly put out by the comment, while Lady Ava shifts uncertainly. Louis smiles at her. “How are your feet faring, my Lady?”</p><p>Lady Ava makes a face, before glancing at the prince, who’s watching with some confusion. “Still blistered and bruised,” she says. “But at least I’ve learnt my lesson about impractical shoes.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that you’re in pain,” says Harry, brow creased with concern. If he keeps frowning like that he’ll get wrinkles, Louis notes uncharitably. “You should go to the nurse, he can give you a salve or something so your feet heal more quickly.”</p><p>“Thank you, your Highness, I think I might,” says Lady Ava. “I’ll leave you both to it, I’d hate to interrupt your time together.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, my Lady, you’re always welcome to interrupt us,” says Louis. “You’re a friend, no?”</p><p>Lady Ava flushes, smile turning shy as she looks up at him through long lashes. “Please, your Highness, call me Ava,” she says. “There’s no need for titles between friends.”</p><p>“Louis, then,” he replies, returning her smile. She curtseys, and leaves after Harry gives her a nod.</p><p>As she’s walking away, Harry says, “You let her use your name.” He sounds distinctly disgruntled, and when Louis glances over, Harry’s pouting. “You won’t even let <em>me</em> use your name, and I’m your soulmate.”</p><p>Louis shrugs. “You have to earn it, love,” he says, and then curses his tongue for using pet names so readily when Harry perks up again.</p><p>“You won’t let me use your name, but you call me ‘love’,” he murmurs, like he’s savouring the moment.</p><p>Louis rolls his eyes, and starts walking away, back towards the castle. “I call everyone ‘love’, you aren’t special.”</p><p>“You did it before too,” Harry says thoughtfully.</p><p>Louis stops. “What?”</p><p>“You said ‘keep dreaming, love’. I think I could get used to it, really.”</p><p>“I absolutely did not,” protests Louis.</p><p>“You did,” insists Harry, and then he seems to get shy, biting at his lower lip. “No one except my mum ever uses endearments for me, and I love them. Don’t know whether it’s because I’m a prince and people are scared of offending me or because I’m an alpha and people believe endearments are an omega thing, but. I like them. I like you using them.”</p><p>It’s a shame, because Harry looks like he was made for endearments, with his pink cheeks and gorgeous smile and pretty green eyes. If Louis weren’t actively trying to sabotage their relationship, he’d use every endearment in the book.</p><p>“Probably both,” says Louis, ignoring the rest of what Harry’s said. “But you’re not really the typical alpha, are you?”</p><p>Harry looks unconcerned. “So I’ve been told,” he says, and starts walking again. It’s good, because Louis had been starting to shiver from the lack of movement. “You’re not exactly a typical omega either.”</p><p>Louis snorts. “You don’t even know me,” he says, harsher than he intends.</p><p>Harry hums, clearly suppressing a smirk. “Good thing we’re spending time together.”</p><p>*</p><p>And so it continues, though not entirely to Louis’ satisfaction. He shows up to one of their outings completely un-styled, unkempt and sleepy because he literally just rolled out of bed (not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction of knowing Louis prepared), but Harry only looks endeared, watching Louis move like one might watch a particularly adorable kitten. It’s unspeakably irritating, and Louis ends up leaving their tea early because he can’t take it anymore. Similarly, when Louis starts stealing food from Harry’s plate during meals, Harry only smiles and nudges his plate closer for easier access (“What’s mine is yours, your Highness,” he says in that deep, husky voice of his. Louis wants to throttle him.). Their parents watch with matching smirks.</p><p>Harry’s too cool and collected, too fucking <em>amused</em> by everything, and it makes Louis want to pick at him until he cries, just so Louis can get a proper reaction.</p><p>When Harry knocks on Louis’ door the next morning, Louis’ already dressed and waiting. Zayn lets Harry in, and Louis’ smug when Harry’s mouth drops open at the sight of his outfit.</p><p>“What— what?” stammers Harry, eyes drifting over Louis’ body in an entirely inappropriate fashion. It’s quite satisfying.</p><p>“What?” says Louis, aiming for innocent but maybe not quite reaching it.</p><p>“You’re— what’re you wearing?”</p><p>Louis is wearing tight riding trousers and a loose shirt, an outfit that’s deeply improper for an omega prince visiting another kingdom. It’s what he always wears to play football, and everyone in Doncaster is used to it, but he can tell by Harry’s open mouth that this sort of clothing is unusual for Cheshire. Showing off his legs alone is controversial, but his throat and chest too? Unheard of. Louis understands why Harry can’t help but take it all in.</p><p>“Just some old clothes,” says Louis, flippant. “I’d like to play some football today. Zayn’s already gotten some lads together. Are you in?”</p><p>Harry’s eyes snap away from where they’d been lingering on Louis’ thighs, and he asks, frowning, “Which lads?”</p><p>“Few of my mates from the kitchens, one or two of the noble lads that Lou’s made friends with, think your friend Liam might be coming,” says Zayn, shrugging. He’s in a similar outfit to Louis, but of course it’s considered less daring because of his beta status.</p><p>Harry’s frown deepens. “You’ve made friends with some noble lads?” Louis can’t quite parse his tone, but it raises his hackles.</p><p>“I’ll have you know that I’m quite charming and all the noble lads love me,” says Louis. It’s true. He’s been trying to avoid sitting with the royal family during meals, and has thus made it his mission to befriend other members of court. He’s been fairly successful so far, but he’s had to keep an eye on a couple of alphas who tend to laugh a little too much at his jokes, and let their stares hover a tad too long.</p><p>“I have no doubt,” Harry says. “Football sounds great. Prince Louis, are you sure you want to wear that? It’s very cold outside, I’d hate for you to get sick.” Irritatingly enough, the request sounds genuine, not like a subtle attempt to get Louis to cover up.</p><p>Louis waves him off. “Don’t fret, I’ll get hot when we start playing.”</p><p>Harry looks unconvinced, but makes no further comment. Zayn ushers them out of the room, and says, “Hurry up, the lads’ll be waiting.”</p><p>When they get out of the castle and reach the oval, they find that the lads are, in fact, waiting. Liam’s bouncing the football on his knees, and all of them are dressed warmly. Louis refuses to admit that perhaps forgoing more layers wasn’t the best idea, not in this weather. That’s especially confirmed when Louis notices the way some of the lads’ eyes are lingering on his bare throat. Harry greets everyone cheerily, making introductions, and stands close enough to Louis that Louis begins to feel like Harry’s trying to mark his territory. Just this once, Louis decides not to say anything about it.</p><p>“And finally, this is Lord Niall, one of my good friends,” says Harry, looking pleasantly surprised by Lord Niall’s presence.</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Prince Louis,” says Lord Niall. He’s smiling, cheeks ruddy and eyes a brilliant, clever blue. He’s an omega, clearly, looking just a tad softer than the other lads, and Louis grins back at him. Lord Niall’s fully covered, having layered up both to combat the cold and to hide as much skin as possible as an omega. Louis feels a tad more awkward now, knowing that the others are likely comparing the two omegas in their heads, but he strives to ignore it. </p><p>It’s good to be outside, the earthy scent of mud and the crisp air soothing him immensely, even as goose bumps rise on his skin from the cold. It’s Zayn who takes charge, ordering them into teams and explaining the rules (of which there are very few — the basics are be nice and don’t touch the ball with your hands). Harry’s on the opposite team, and his face is alight with excitement, eyes practically glowing green. There’s a stubborn set to his jaw that suggests he’s used to winning, curls falling across his forehead in a way that’s infuriatingly handsome.</p><p>Louis looks forward to beating him.</p><p>Louis’ good at football, playing regular games with not only the other nobles in the palace but with any staff Zayn can scrounge up. His parents turn a blind eye when he sneaks out to play, only minding when he uses the football games to blatantly avoid his duties. He knows that some members of the court talk a lot about him behind his back — good omegas don’t play sport, apparently, especially not omega princes.</p><p>Based on Harry’s questionable dancing skills, Louis had thought that he would be equally as terrible at playing football. Unfortunately, it appears that Louis has underestimated Harry’s determination and competitive spirit. Which is how he finds himself tumbling to the ground during Harry’s efforts to steal the ball, unable to stabilise himself with how muddy everything is from last night’s rain.</p><p>He falls with a splatter, and it all starts seeping into his clothes in the most terrible way. Even worse, Harry’s halfway down the field, ball between his feet. Louis scrambles up quickly and sprints after Harry, unwilling to let him get the goal, even as his clothes stick to his body from the mud. Lord Nick’s yelling something, and when Louis gets closer he realises that Lord Nick’s attempting to defend his honour.</p><p>“Be careful, your Highness, he’s an omega, don’t be too rough,” Lord Nick’s snapping, which is kind of him but very irritating because Louis can certainly take some rough play (no innuendo intended). He has no desire to be treated differently because of his sex, especially during a casual game of football.</p><p>“Prince Louis can handle it,” scoffs Harry, breathless as he tries to keep the ball away from the others, footing sure and quick. “He’s not fragile.”</p><p>He then kicks the ball to Liam, who swiftly scores a goal. Drat. The other team cheers, and Zayn comes over to check on Louis, who doesn’t know how to feel about what just happened. It’s not often that people look at Louis and think of him as strong. In fact, it’s only really in Doncaster, where Louis has taken great pains to alter the perception of omegas, and he’s very aware that his treatment in his own kingdom is the exception, not the rule.</p><p>He’s grateful every day that Zayn was chosen to be his attendant. Zayn, who has snuck in endless books on gender and politics and activism, as well as studies that prove that omegas are more than just carers. Zayn, who sneaks Louis out to hang out with Zayn’s friends, a lot of whom are highly opinionated omegas and betas who take care to correct Louis on any outdated ideas. Louis genuinely doesn’t know who he would be as a person if he didn’t have access to such information, because before Zayn’s arrival, he was well on the path to being just another soft omega prince who’s trained to be silent and obedient.</p><p>Zayn claps him on the back, a light sheen of sweet making his face shine. “Alright, Louis?”</p><p>Louis forces a smile, and closes the door on Harry’s possible progressiveness. “Alright, yeah. Just took a bit of a tumble, the bloody mud got the better of me.”</p><p>Lord Niall, who was nearby, joins them. Louis notices that he angles himself carefully, so that his body blocks Louis from the view of everyone else. “Bad idea to play when it’s this wet outside,” he says, grinning. His legs are also splattered with mud, flags of red high on his cheeks from exertion. “Not only do the bloody alphas take it easy on us, but we end up falling on our arses anyway!”</p><p>Louis returns his grin. “Reckon you and I should have a one-on-one match, omega versus omega,” he says. “Promise I won’t take it easy on you.”</p><p>Lord Niall laughs. “Sounds good to me, your Highness! I’m warning you now, when it isn’t muddy I’m a fiend on the pitch.”</p><p>“Call me Louis, please, no need for titles,” returns Louis, supressing a smile at Lord Niall’s warmth.</p><p>“Niall,” says Niall. “You should join me for lunch or something next week. It’s always nice to meet more omegas, especially males.”</p><p>Louis can understand that. Male omegas are fairly rare, and he can’t imagine that there would be many in the small pool of nobles in Cheshire.</p><p>“Of course,” he says. “That would be lovely.”</p><p>“Your Highness,” says Harry, jogging over once he’s extricated himself from his pile of teammates. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His brow is creased with concern, though his face is still glowing from the happiness of his successful assist.</p><p>“Not at all, I just got a bit muddy,” says Louis, trying to unstick his shirt from his skin. “It happens, not your fault.”</p><p>Harry’s eyes are drawn to the action, and his mouth opens the tiniest bit. It’s only when he looks down that Louis realises just how much his clothes have moulded to his form, shirt wet enough to be indecent, even for Louis’ standards. It’s worse, since he’s a visiting prince, and is acting as a representative of his kingdom. Louis clears his throat and Harry’s eyes snap back up to his face, cheeks colouring a little from the embarrassment of getting caught staring. Louis’ a little embarrassed too, but also kind of satisfied at the reaction.</p><p>Harry bites at his bottom lip for a moment, thinking. “Why don’t we return to the castle for tea, lads?” he calls after a moment, not shifting his gaze. “It’s bloody cold out, and I’m starving!”</p><p>There’re several shouts of agreement, and Harry directs Liam to lead everyone to his chambers and inform the kitchens that they’ll be needing sustenance. Harry excuses himself on the grounds that he needs to fetch the ball and return it to the groundskeeper, and adds that Louis will join him, promising that they’ll join the rest of them soon.</p><p>Soon it’s just them and Zayn, who has thankfully made no effort to leave. Niall had looked like he wanted to linger, but was pulled away by one of the other lads. It’s smooth, really, the way Harry’s done it. Now Louis can change clothes without drawing attention to his indecency, the threat of the other alphas removed by Harry. Similarly, Louis won’t look weak or fragile because it’s Harry that ended the game. It’s smart, and Louis feels a reluctant appreciation.</p><p>“Prince Louis, would you like my jacket? You must be freezing,” says Harry, once again proving his tact. He hasn’t mentioned the impropriety of it all, has only commented on the temperature, and in a world where many an alpha would be taking this opportunity to exert dominance over an omega, Louis takes note. Harry’s stance is relaxed, and he’s clearly content to wait for Louis to make a decision.</p><p>Louis weighs it up — there’s the inherent idea of claiming that comes with Louis wearing Harry’s jacket, but Louis is cold and reluctant to walk through this foreign castle while looking so indecent, certain that word will get back to his parents. Eventually he nods, and Harry wastes no time in shedding his jacket and wrapping it around Louis’ shoulders.</p><p>It’s big on him, obviously, and kind of damp from Harry’s sweat, but warm. Harry’s scent envelops him, overwhelming in its strength, and it makes him shudder a little bit, heart racing as his instincts command him to touch. When he glances over at Harry, muttering a thank you, he finds the alpha looking a little overwhelmed, eyes big and green where he’s taking in the view of Louis in his jacket. Louis rolls his eyes, and starts walking. The mud squelches beneath his feet with every step. Zayn and Harry hurry to catch up, and fall into step beside him.</p><p>“You played well, your Highness,” says Harry. “Is football popular in Doncaster?”</p><p>“Not generally,” says Louis. “Zayn introduced me to it when I was young, and I’ve been playing ever since.”</p><p>Zayn had seen Louis near vibrating with energy after two hours of etiquette classes, and decided that Louis needed an outlet so as not to go insane, and so as not to drive everyone else insane. Thus, football.</p><p>Zayn hums his agreement. “Louis’ made it more popular with the people,” he says. “Now everyone wants to play it.”</p><p>Louis can see Harry smiling from the corner of his eye. “You’re well loved,” he acknowledges.</p><p>Louis shrugs, embarrassed by the compliment.</p><p>“That’s our Prince Louis,” says Zayn, before slinging a friendly arm around Louis’ shoulders. Harry’s smile disappears.</p><p>They return to Louis’ chambers in record time, hurrying through the halls like thieves. They each hold their shoes in hand, to avoid treading mud throughout the castle, and Louis’ feet are freezing. Not to mention his calves, which are itching from the drying mud that’s caked on them. He can’t wait to get into warm clothes.</p><p>“Prince Louis will bathe before joining you all,” says Zayn, leaving no room for argument.</p><p>Harry inclines his head. “As you wish, Master Zayn,” he says. “Enjoy. I’ll see you both soon.” With that, he heads towards his own chambers. He doesn’t ask for his jacket back, which is good, because Louis feels oddly reluctant to give it up. He’s grown a bit used to the way their scents are intermingling, which is an uncomfortable thought that he’s going to ignore for as long as possible.</p><p>There’s the sound and texture of crumpling paper beneath his feet as he enters, and he looks down to see an envelope with his name scribbled on the front. It must’ve been slid under the door while they were out. He picks it up, and holds it up for Zayn to see, head cocked.</p><p>“A love letter from the prince?” says Zayn, smirking as he rifles through a drawer for the letter opener. He passes it to Louis, who slices it open with a dramatic swipe that makes Zayn roll his eyes.</p><p>“I bloody well hope not,” says Louis, frowning as he removes the note from inside. He scans it, and his frown deepens, stomach turning a little at the words.</p><p>“What does it say?” Zayn peers over his shoulder, breath hitting Louis’ neck in warm puffs. “What the fuck?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Prince Louis,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>End your arrangement with Prince Harry, or suffer the consequences.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>x</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The handwriting is beautiful, a practiced calligraphy, but the parchment itself is nothing to write home about. It’s the same as you could get anywhere, as is the ink. </p><p>“There’s no signature,” says Louis, flipping the note over to see if there’s anything on the back. There’s isn’t. “Bloody hell, this is a proper threatening letter! I’ve been here for four days, for goodness’ sake, how could I have made an enemy already?” He can’t even recall anyone he might’ve offended, barring Prince Harry, and that’s been purposeful. He’s certain that he’s been positively angelic to everybody else.</p><p>Zayn snatches the letter from Louis’ fingers, and reads it again. “You have to tell Prince Harry,” he says, brows drawn together. It’s incredible how Zayn constantly looks extraordinarily handsome, no matter the circumstances.</p><p>“I absolutely do not,” says Louis, finding the idea of running to the alpha because of a single threatening letter to be quite grating. “I have no plans to ever mate with Prince Harry, so this note is useless anyway. I’m leaving in a couple of weeks, and I won’t be coming back. There’s no need to worry anyone.”</p><p>“Louis, don’t be stupid,” says Zayn. “This is serious, yeah? We need to tell someone, what if something happens?”</p><p>Louis snatches the paper right back, and tears it into pieces. “No, we’ll keep this between us. Nothing is going to happen. We’re not here for much longer, I’ll be okay.”</p><p>Zayn looks unconvinced, nibbling at his bottom lip as he evaluates the situation. He lets out a sigh, and says, “You’re an idiot. I’ll run you a bath. But just for future reference? I told you so.”</p><p>Louis ignores him. Soon enough they’ll be back in Doncaster, and everything will be back to normal. </p><p>*</p><p>Harry looks tired when he meets Louis for dinner. The set of his mouth is tense, and his hair is a curly mess, like he’s been running his hand through it from the stress.</p><p>“Prince Louis,” greets Harry when Louis opens the door, and the way Harry’s shoulders relax at the sight of him is mildly alarming.</p><p>“Alright, Harry?” says Louis cautiously, taking Harry’s arm when it’s offered.</p><p>“Long day,” is all Harry says. </p><p>“Care to elaborate?”</p><p>The hall is empty except for the guards, indicating that everyone must already be dining. The guards nod their respect to the two princes, and they nod back. Just when Louis thinks that Harry isn’t going to respond, he sighs.</p><p>“My parents told me not to mention it, but I suppose you deserve to know.” Harry takes a deep breath, and Louis waits. “There are just some people who think that the goddess has made a mistake in choosing you. And there are people who don’t believe in the goddess at all, and think that I shouldn’t bond with a foreigner. That there are plenty of noble omegas in Cheshire for me to choose from, and that it’s an affront to them that I have instead chosen you.” Harry’s voice is tight, and he smells of irritation, stress, and exhaustion.</p><p>The news is unsurprising, especially considering the letter Louis received. “Your Highness, I—”</p><p>“Please don’t be concerned! It’s all under control, I promise. This doesn’t change anything,” Harry rushes to reassure. </p><p>Louis rolls his eyes. “Harry, I don’t care,” he says. “The opinions of these people mean nothing to me. I’m leaving in a week, for goodness’ sake, I think I can survive a bit of negativity.”</p><p>As long as that negativity doesn’t translate to any actual action.</p><p>Harry swallows, and Louis watches the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Right,” he says, and somehow, he looks even more tired.</p><p>“You should have an early night tonight,” says Louis abruptly. “You look about ready to collapse. C’mon, food’ll help.”</p><p>Harry gives him a long look, but agrees.</p><p>*</p><p>It’s Zayn who realises that perhaps Harry’s a bit too progressive for Louis’ initial plan to work. It’s Ava who makes Louis realise that he’s been going about everything entirely wrong, and prompts an overhaul of his plan.</p><p>She’s invited him for tea in her chambers, which are decorated with silk cushions and velvet couches in varying shades of blue, wallpaper floral and delicate. Louis wonders if the colour scheme was chosen specifically to bring out her eyes. The table is decorated with a delicate lace tablecloth, and is absolutely piled with cakes and tarts, not to mention a ginormous teapot that already has Louis’ heart.</p><p>Ava’s laughing, a single gloved hand raised to cover her mouth as she says, “I’ve never seen the prince more uncomfortable in my life! I swear, the omega wasn’t even saying anything, just crossing her legs demurely and showing off her neck. Her next move was gonna be to sit in his lap, I could just tell, but then the queen pretty much kicked her out. Prince Harry was so relieved, it was hysterical!”</p><p>“Oh dear,” murmurs Louis, smirking. </p><p>“Honestly, thank the goddess he’s chosen an omega like you, Louis, otherwise I’m not sure how he’d cope. He has little patience for people who can’t take care of themselves.” </p><p>Louis says something commiserating and the conversation continues, but inwardly he’s plotting. It will be annoying, trying to act like a stereotypical omega, but if it gets him out of this arranged marriage, he’s willing to do it. When Louis returns to his chambers, he communicates the new plan to Zayn. He looks both sceptical and thoughtful.</p><p>“You think that’ll work?” he asks.</p><p>Louis shrugs. “I’m running out of options. The prince is bloody stubborn.”</p><p>“In love, more like,” mutters Zayn.</p><p>Louis shoves him. “Fuck off, it’s barely been a week, he can’t possibly be in love. <em>I’m</em> certainly not.”</p><p>Zayn snorts. “You’re attracted to him, though. That’s how it starts, innit?”</p><p>“Fuck <em>off</em>, no I’m not,” snaps Louis, and considers shoving Zayn again.</p><p>Zayn gets a look in his eye like he’s about to say something that Louis won’t like. “Why do you still have his jacket, then? Don’t think I haven’t seen you sniffing it before bed.”</p><p>Louis flushes red, both furious and embarrassed that Zayn has caught him during one of his lowest moments. Objectively, it’s kind of gross, because Harry actively sweated in that jacket and it’s definitely in need of a wash. Subjectively, Harry’s scent is incredible, and soothing enough that Louis can drop to sleep almost immediately after smelling it. He hates it, but he also can’t help but give in to the draw. He’s well aware of how incriminating the action is, and is deeply unwilling to discuss it further.</p><p>“Haven’t had a chance to return it,” says Louis, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. Zayn snorts softly, but for once doesn’t comment.</p><p>Louis excuses himself to bed, and adamantly avoids the jacket that’s neatly folded on the armchair in the corner. It taunts him as he slides into bed, he can almost hear it saying <em>sniff me, please, you’ll sleep so much better, you need me</em>.</p><p>He closes his eyes and tosses and turns, and if he wakes in the middle of the night to press his face into the jacket and inhale, nobody has to know.</p><p>*</p><p>“Prince Louis, are you alright?” asks Harry tentatively.</p><p>They’re sitting by the fire in Louis’ chambers, playing a game of cards. Zayn’s in the corner, reading a book, which is handy because the book just covers his smirk. The entire situation is torturous, because Louis is taking great care to only speak when spoken to, and to keep his answers short and to the point. Additionally, he continuously defers to Harry, who gives him odd looks every time, and has made it a point to demurely sip at his tea and cross his legs and make himself seem small.</p><p>After an hour, Louis’ sick of it. There’s nothing wrong with stereotypical omegas, however that’s simply not who Louis is as a person. It completely goes against his personal views to just sit back and look pretty and shut up, not to mention that he’s a fidgeter at heart. It’s worth it, though, for how uncomfortable Harry looks right now. He’s chewing at his bottom lip, watching Louis with wary green eyes like Louis’ suddenly transformed into a wild animal. He’s been playing terribly, too distracted by the sudden change in Louis’ personality. Louis thinks that at the very least he must be keeping Harry on his toes, though Harry seems to have an unnatural ability to both go along with and utterly decimate any act Louis’ puts on during their meetings.</p><p>“Quite well,” says Louis earnestly, looking at Harry through his lashes. Pink blooms on Harry’s cheeks, which is great, because Louis practiced that move in the mirror. He’s glad to find that it’s effective.</p><p>“It’s just…” says Harry, lowering his cards a bit. “You’re acting. Different?”</p><p>“Different?” says Louis, brow creasing with confusion. He lets the pause stretch. “How so?”</p><p>“Well, you’re not talking, for one,” offers Harry, mouth curling up at the corner. “Nor have you been trying to cheat, as you usually do. Are you ill? Shall I fetch a healer?”</p><p>It’s a good-natured tease which would earn him a friendly shove if Harry were anyone else. Since Harry is <em>not</em> anyone else, Louis widens his eyes, bottom lip wobbling. He swallows, hard, and focuses entirely on his cards, allowing the silence to thicken with tension. Over the cards, Louis can see Harry looking to Zayn for assistance. Zayn just shrugs, pretending to look concerned though Louis can tell he’s supressing a smirk.</p><p>“…Prince Louis?” says Harry, tentative. Louis says nothing. “Your Highness, please talk to me?”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t like it when I spoke,” says Louis, perfectly even. He lets his vision go blurry with tears, cards doubling in front of his eyes, and waits.</p><p>Harry looks mildly panicked as he sets down his cards. “My apologies, your Highness, it appears that was a poorly considered joke.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t you be off to fetch a healer?” says Louis, and when his voice cracks, Harry winces so hard that Louis feels mild sympathy.</p><p>“Also a poorly considered joke,” says Harry, looking like he’s at a complete loss for what to do.</p><p>Louis nods, and carefully blinks out a single tear. “I see,” he says. “Is this what it would be like, then? If we were to mate? You constantly mocking me for being an omega?” </p><p>Harry goes from mildly panicked to <em>very</em> panicked, frantically patting at his pockets for something. A handkerchief, probably, that’s always the classic move for an alpha when an omega’s crying. “No, no! What? I wasn’t—”</p><p>Louis lets out a sob, and covers his face with his hands. He’s always been quite good at fake-crying, and he’s glad to see the talent doesn’t disappear with age. Zayn snaps his book shut, and rises from his seat. Harry’s confusion and distress stink up the room like smoking charcoal.</p><p>“I’m not sure this is appropriate, your Highness,” says Zayn coolly. “You are distressing the prince, and acting immeasurably rude. I don’t think Louis’ parents would be happy to hear that you made him cry.”</p><p>“I think this might be an overreaction—”</p><p>“Please, just <em>get out</em>, you utter <em>scoundrel</em>,” Louis cries out, distraught. “I can’t believe I thought you were different!”</p><p>Zayn rolls his eyes, but luckily, Harry doesn’t see, attention entirely on Louis.</p><p>“Louis—”</p><p>“Prince Harry, I must request that you leave us,” interrupts Zayn, folding his arms across his skinny chest. “You’ve upset Louis in his own chambers, and that is simply unacceptable. Louis must rest. He’s very sensitive.”</p><p>“I will not,” says Harry, and his voice is so firm that Louis lifts his face from his hands, shocked. </p><p>Suddenly, Harry’s kneeling in front of him. He’s found his handkerchief, and of course it’s silk, monogrammed with Harry’s initials because apparently he must lay claim to everything. He reaches one hand up to cup Louis’ jaw, and Louis is too confused to stop him. Then, carefully, Harry dabs at Louis’ red, snotty face, the silk of the handkerchief lovely and cool against the heat of Louis’ skin. It’s so unexpected that Louis can’t even try to tear his eyes away from Harry’s face, which is calm as he gingerly wipes at Louis’ tears.</p><p>“That’s better, isn’t it?” murmurs Harry once Louis’ breathing has evened out, face dry though his skin still feels a tad sticky. Harry folds the handkerchief back up and slides it into his pocket, before taking one of Louis’ clammy hands in his own. Louis can’t do anything but watch, deeply unnerved by this tender turn of events.</p><p>“My dear prince,” says Harry, “I’m so deeply sorry for offending you. Your tears are painful to witness, and to be the cause of them is a transgression I can never forgive. I have clearly been remiss today, and I beg the opportunity to make it up to you. I will leave you now, so you may rest, but will you join me for tea tomorrow in my chambers?”</p><p>Louis just nods, unable to even speak. Harry smiles back at him, and squeezes Louis’ hand gently, before raising it to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ knuckles. He releases it, then, and rises, making a face as his knees crack.</p><p>“My joints aren’t what they used to be,” jokes Harry, and doesn’t wait for a response before bidding them both goodbye before letting himself out of Louis’ chambers.</p><p>In the quiet, Louis and Zayn can do nothing else but stare at each other.</p><p>“I was so certain that would put him off,” says Louis dully, unable to muster the energy for exasperation. </p><p>“Prince Harry can’t help but surprise you, apparently,” says Zayn. “I think he sees it as a bit of a game. He knows that you’re trying to off him, and he reckons he’s not going to make it easy. He’s a good actor, innit? Cheeky, and clever to boot.” He huffs out a laugh. “Lou, I hate to tell you this, but Prince Harry might actually be perfect for you.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” says Louis shortly, rubbing at his temples. He’s getting a headache, now, from both the crying and his general frustration. “I’m going to bed. I need to think.”</p><p>None of this is turning out how it’s meant to, and Louis has no fucking idea how to fix it.</p><p>*</p><p>Harry answers the door beaming. His curls are looking fresh and shiny, and his shirt is a pale blue, layered beneath a silk embroidered waistcoat. Louis has to actively tear his eyes away from where Harry’s rolled up his sleeves to reveal strong forearms.</p><p>“Prince Louis! Welcome!” exclaims Harry, ushering Louis inside. The fire is burning, but the room is also filled with the cool natural light of winter. There are attendants lining the walls, and the table is set up with a number of cakes, pastries, and finger sandwiches on top of a lavender tablecloth. There are lit candles in the centre, wax matching both the tablecloth and the embroidery on Harry’s waistcoat. The attention to detail is endearing.</p><p>“Prince Harry,” greets Louis, trying to keep his expression bland and disinterested.</p><p>Harry guides him to a chair at the table, pulling it out for Louis to take a seat and then artfully laying a cloth napkin over Louis’ lap. It’s intimate, especially since there are attendants that generally do that job.</p><p>“Are you feeling better today, your Highness?” asks the prince as he takes his own seat.</p><p>Louis gives him a tight smile. “Much,” he says.</p><p>Harry busies himself with serving them both food, piling Louis’ plate with his favourites. It’s odd, maybe sweet, makes Louis think that Harry’s been categorising everything Louis does during their meetings.</p><p>“Will you have tea, Prince Louis?” asks Harry. His hands with all of his chunky rings make the large teapot look delicate. He hovers, waiting for Louis’ reply.</p><p>“No, thank you,” says Louis, averting his eyes. He watches the fire flicker, and ignores Harry’s surprised stare.</p><p>“Are you well?” wonders Harry as he pours his own tea. The other day, Louis had gone on a rant after Harry dared say he prefers coffee to tea. He likes that Harry remembers.</p><p>“Apologies, I simply no longer care for beverages other than vodka,” says Louis with an impatient flick of his fingers. The tea smells incredible, the castle having specially ordered the Tomlinsons’ favourite tea for their visit. “Vodka is the only fashionable drink right now, I will let no other liquid touch my lips.”</p><p>“Is that so?” says Harry, stirring a sugar cube into his tea. His mouth is twitching. “Then vodka you shall have. James, will you please fetch the prince his vodka?”</p><p>“Right away, your Highness.” An attendant goes running out of the room, and Louis feels a pang of guilt at having put him out of his way. When he returns his gaze to Harry, he realises that the prince is watching him, half-smirking.</p><p>“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.</p><p>“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and <em>oh, he’s so handsome I can hardly pour his tea without shaking</em>!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”</p><p>“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”</p><p>Harry’s face scrunches, the way it does when he’s trying not to smile too big. Louis hates that he knows that. “Oh, no, every servant in the palace has taken the time to tell me of your kindness. They call you Lovely Prince Louis, isn’t it sweet? One of them even told me they caught you having a tea party with the palace children the other day. If you leave, you’ll be breaking many hearts, I’m afraid. Mine included.”</p><p>Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, princeling.”</p><p>Harry looks mildly bothered, which Louis counts as a small victory. “I’m only two years younger than you,” he says, eyes narrowing.</p><p>“Two years is a lot of time, love,” says Louis, trying to copy the condescending edge Charlotte uses when the babies are irritating her. “S’not your fault you haven’t matured yet.”</p><p>Harry scowls, and it’s the first time he’s offered any strong sense of negative emotion. He’s usually very careful to keep any irritation under wraps, but his scent’s sharpening with the anger, and it’s making Louis instinctively want to back down. Unfortunately for everyone, and especially his omega brain, Louis is simply not the type to do so.</p><p>“Oh, darling,” he coos, trying to look sympathetic. “It’s alright, you’ll be out of nappies soon enough and then you’ll eventually grow into a man. Patience is key, your Highness.”</p><p>For a moment, it seems like that’s the last straw. Harry’s cheeks grow hot with anger, jaw twitching from the force with which it’s clenched. His eyes are a bright, furious green, and Louis can almost see the alpha roaring inside. But then Harry takes a deep breath, and relaxes back into his seat.</p><p>“You doubt my maturity, my prince?” he says, quietly challenging. Louis’ skin itches with the realisation that this conversation might be going somewhere he’s not ready for. “Perhaps I should prove it to you.”</p><p>Louis raises his eyebrows, doing his best to look bored. “And how would you do that, princeling?”</p><p>The only sign now of Harry’s anger at the nickname is the white of his fingers on the arm of the chair. He cocks his head, maintaining eye contact in that intense, uncomfortable way of his.</p><p>“How would you like me to prove it, your Highness? I think you already have some ideas. You watch my mouth an awful lot for someone who thinks I’m immature. Perhaps you’d like me to show you how skilled I am at giving pleasure.”</p><p>Louis is bright red, he can feel it. That Harry’s noticed Louis’ gaze lingering on his lips is embarrassing enough, but offering to <em>pleasure</em> Louis? Unbelievable and entirely unexpected. His heart is racing, thumping quicker in his chest than a rabbit runs at the thought of Harry on his knees. Louis doesn’t know how to react. Harry’s words have flustered him, simply put, though the smug expression on Harry’s face is also enough to flood Louis’ veins with fury.</p><p>Harry tends to keep his alpha under wraps. From what Louis’ seen, he prefers to be the pretty, joyful prince, not the overbearing, aggressive alpha that many would expect. Thus, this is a side of Harry that Louis didn’t even know existed, and wasn’t anticipating. Harry has always been gentle and careful, cheeky but not particularly assertive. He’s content to let things happen as they happen, as far as Louis has noticed, and Louis had assumed that he was the type of alpha that would let himself be directed. But this changes things. This changes Louis’ entire perception of the prince, suggests that Louis doesn’t have him pinned as well as he thinks.</p><p>Louis hates not having the upper hand, and he hates being the butt of the joke. He also hates that he’s getting kind of aroused. He’s sure that Harry can smell it. He’s been told that his arousal smells like warm spices, and since they aren’t exactly baking cookies at the moment, the scent would be unmistakeable.</p><p>Harry’s watching him like a big cat stalking its prey, following his movements with low-lidded eyes. Oh, yes, Harry can certainly smell him. He composes himself, and raises his eyebrows.</p><p>“You think <em>you</em> could pleasure me?” asks Louis, smirking. Harry visibly swallows, and the satisfaction at getting a reaction almost threatens to overcome him. “The darling inexperienced princeling? That’s sweet, love, but I have my own, uh. Friends, who excel at pleasuring me. Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like your services are unnecessary.”</p><p>“Ah, yes. Master Zayn.” Harry’s voice is sharp, like he’s actively trying to maintain his temper when he says, “You could have hundreds of lovers in your own home, but now you are here, in mine. And it’s clear that Master Zayn is <em>only</em> a friend. You need me. Even if it’s only to relieve your… frustration.” Even the twitch of his <em>nose</em> is smug.</p><p>“I don’t need you.” Louis’ fury is abrupt and all-encompassing, and he hates this loss of composure.</p><p>“You may think that now, but you won’t know until you try,” says Harry, apparently unbothered. “I understand if you’re scared. I’ve been told I’m quite sizable.”</p><p>“Scared?” Louis scoffs. “Please. I could take it.” He pauses, realising exactly what he’s just said as Harry’s mouth drops open a little, eyes going hazy like he’s imagining it. His scent gets richer, like the dark cocoa the palace cook uses in their cakes. It’s mouth-watering, enough that Louis decides that he needs to leave before he starts getting more aroused. There would be nothing more humiliating than allowing this dumb prince to get him wet. “But I suppose you’ll never know, will you? Apologies, princeling, I’m late for another appointment.”</p><p>Harry says nothing, just watches, leaning back in his chair with his legs splayed open like the obnoxious alpha that he is. Louis barely resists the temptation to sneak a glance at his crotch. He needs to get the fuck away from this bloody echo-chamber of arousal.</p><p>Just before Louis reaches the door, almost itching at how close freedom is, Harry calls his name.</p><p>Louis stops, huffs, and turns around. “What?”</p><p>“You know where to find me,” says Harry, voice deep and smooth in a way that sends a current of want up Louis’ spine. “If you need a friend.”</p><p>Louis stiffens, fingers curling into a fist with the force of his rage and frustration. He says nothing, and walks away envisioning his hands around Harry’s neck.</p><p>*</p><p>“Y’alright, darling? Is that good?” Harry’s voice is echoing in his ears, low and husky, but Louis’ too hazy to respond.</p><p>It feels like Harry’s been kissing him for hours, lips raw and burning. It’s like he can see, smell, think of nobody else — just Harry and his rich scent and the wet kisses he’s trailing down Louis’ neck. It’s barely anything, but goose bumps are still lining his skin. It’s all he can do to just cling to Harry, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s discovered that whenever he tugs, Harry’s hips roll down in search of friction.</p><p>Harry’s fit, evident in the way that he hasn’t struggled at all to hold his weight just above Louis’ body, and Louis briefly wonders how a prince maintains such a physique. His muscles are taut and firm beneath his pale skin. He’s certain that Harry could fuck him against a wall, and oh, isn’t that a pleasant thought. Harry gives one of Louis’ nipples a tentative suck, and Louis loses focus, shivering from the sensation. He’s wet, has been since he arrived at Harry’s door, and the way Harry’s teasing him isn’t helping.</p><p>“I asked you a question, my prince,” says Harry, breath hot and damp against Louis’ chest. Louis tries to pull him back down, desperate to feel Harry’s mouth again, but Harry just moans at the pull of his hair, grinding against the sheets from where he’s wedged himself between Louis’ legs. His breathing’s ragged when he repeats, “Do you feel good?”</p><p>He licks a stripe up Louis’ sternum, and Louis doesn’t know whether to push into or pull away from the sensation. </p><p>“Yes, yes, it feels good,” Louis gasps, and as a reward, Harry returns to Louis nipples, the wet heat of his mouth almost unbearable. As he sucks at one, he’s uses his fingers to pinch and rub at the other, and Louis writhes from the sensitivity, trying to get some sort of friction against his aching cock. But Harry pulls away immediately.</p><p>“No,” he says, eyes dark, lips puffy and red. Louis whines, but Harry just gives him a look. “Are you already getting impatient, sweetheart? We’re only just getting started.”</p><p>With that, he returns to Louis’ nipples. It’s so, so good, a sharp ache in his chest that leads directly to his cock. Harry’s smooth, strong hands are travelling up and down Louis’ body, gliding over his shoulders, arms, the dip of his waist, but pointedly avoiding anywhere even close to Louis’ cock.</p><p>“Please, Harry,” says Louis. When he moves, he feels the slick at his entrance, uncomfortably cognisant of the slide between his cheeks and the fact that he hasn’t yet been touched there. “Please, just fuck me.”</p><p>“You know,” says Harry conversationally, leaving Louis’ nipples with one last gentle kiss, “I wasn’t expecting you to start begging so early. I thought you’d be the type to hold out until the very end, make me work for it.”</p><p>He leans back onto his knees, just taking in the view. His cock is hard and leaking against his belly, knot just visible at the base, and it’s big, just like he said. Maybe the biggest Louis’ ever taken, but still doable. Louis’ acutely aware of Harry’s heated gaze, pupils dilated with want. The exposure of this position is turning Louis on even more, knowing that it’s him, his body that’s driving Harry crazy.</p><p>Harry trails a finger down from Louis’ chest to his navel, Louis’ muscles jumping at the touch. Harry ignores it, and traces the path of Louis’ body until he reaches the coarse patch of pubic hair at his groin. Louis arches into the touch, which is so close to where he wants it but not enough.</p><p>“You’re so easy, darling, aren’t you?” Harry coos, using one hand to pin Louis’ hips down, and the other to thumb at the head of Louis’ cock, collecting the precum and spreading it around. Louis sighs at the sparking sensation, relaxing a little now that Harry’s finally touching him where he wants. “There you go,” says Harry, brow creased with concentration as he watches Louis’ face. “Feels nice, doesn’t it? Think you can come like this?”</p><p>He shakes his head, heart hammering in his chest at the thought of such torture. Absolutely not. The touch is so light that it’s tantalising, offering no strong sense of satisfaction. Louis could probably only come like this if he were kept here for hours, on edge and desperate for release, and it’s a theory he doesn’t want to test right now.</p><p>“No?” says Harry, smirking as he takes his hand away. Louis whimpers, hips trying to follow the touch but prevented from it by the press of Harry’s other hand. “Uh uh, darling boy. You need to behave for me.”</p><p>Louis’ face scrunches up, but he does as he’s told, and Harry’s touch mercifully returns. This time he wraps his entire hand around Louis’ cock, and the tight warmth of it makes Louis hiss with pleasure. Harry starts wanking him, strokes frustratingly slow and a little on the side of too-dry. Louis tosses his head, fists clenching in the sheets at the feeling. All he can do is lie there and take it, hips still being pushed down into the bed by Harry’s other hand, unfaltering in its strength. Louis’ fully leaking, now, slick wetting the sheets beneath him, and their scents are intertwining, filling up the room with warmth and sweet spices and pure arousal.</p><p>“Fuck, faster, please,” pants Louis, heart pounding in his chest. He’s desperate to come, or he’s desperate to get fucked. Either way, he needs something to take the edge off.</p><p>Harry takes his hand away, and Louis thinks that he might sob. Except then he feels fingers trailing down between his cheeks, and he shudders, wondering if Harry’s finally going to fuck him. The fingers circle his entrance, barely applying any pressure, though it’s still enough to make him quiver. Two fingers dip in, and Louis takes in a sharp breath, the stretch just enough to make him feel full. Harry crooks his fingers a little, pumps in once, twice, before removing them again, and Louis slams his fists down onto the bed with frustration, sick to death of this teasing. </p><p>Now wet with slick, Harry’s hand returns to Louis’ pink, aching cock. Louis moans from the now-smooth touch, leaving Harry grinning.</p><p>“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he says, tightening his grip enough that Louis’ toes curl. The movement of his hand is filling the room with slick little sounds, and the pressure is leading Louis closer and closer to the edge. “So gorgeous, Louis, look so lovely all laid out for me, my darling prince—”</p><p>Louis wakes with a start, cock hard and arse leaking from his dream. His nightclothes are sticking to his body from the sweat. He slams his fists down on the bed at the realisation of what’s just happened, regretting not only that he had a fucking sex dream about Prince Harry, but also that dream-Harry didn’t even make him come. He feels kind of empty, now, knowing that now when he gets himself off it won’t be even close to what his mind made up.</p><p>He jerks off quickly, cleans up, and goes back to sleep, both hoping for and dreading the possibility of another sex dream about Harry Styles. Fucking alphas.</p><p>*</p><p>For their next few outings, Louis forces Zayn to join them. He needs someone to act as a buffer, since Harry is clearly more daring than Louis would ever have expected. Additionally, Louis is far too susceptible to it, as confirmed by the uninvited sex dream. Thus, Zayn has been ordered to keep them apart at all costs.</p><p>They’re walking through the corridors to Harry’s rooms, where Louis’ been invited to play chess. It’s a busy time of morning, servants rushing to attendant to their chores and nobles heading to tea or court or whatever nobles do in their spare time. Someone shoulders into Louis as they pass, and it would’ve sent Louis sprawling if Zayn wasn’t there to steady him.</p><p>“Oi!” Zayn calls out, scowling. “Watch where you’re going, mate!”</p><p>There’s no response, not that Louis was really expecting one. People are side-eying them as they pass, and Louis starts walking again, maintaining a polite smile and a tight grip on Zayn’s elbow.</p><p>“S’alright, love, was probably an accident.” Even as he says it, he knows it’s unconvincing.</p><p>Zayn looks sceptical, dark brows drawn together into a deep frown. “Normally, I’d agree. If you hadn’t been threatened just the other day.”</p><p>Louis waves him off. “Don’t worry, Z. It’ll all be fine. I’ll worry about any threats, you just focus on blocking Harry’s advances.”</p><p>When Harry opens the door, Louis can’t help but flush as he’s bombarded with the memory of last night’s dream. Harry takes one look at his face, and smirks.</p><p>“Are you feeling alright, Prince Louis? You look a bit fevered,” he says.</p><p>Louis raises his eyebrows, and pushes his arousal to the side. “I’ve been feeling a tad ill today, actually,” he says. He clutches at his stomach, and makes a face. “I think the nausea is worsening at the sight of your complexion.”</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes, smirk widening into a grin. They both know what he’s thinking: <em>you weren’t complaining yesterday</em>. </p><p>“S’that so? Perhaps a nice cup of tea will sort you out. Or is it vodka, now?” Harry says, and ushers Louis in. He pauses when Zayn follows. “Master Zayn! I wasn’t aware that you’d be joining us, else I’d’ve ordered more food.”</p><p>Zayn glances at the table that’s piled high with various breakfast foods, enough to feed at least five people, and then glances back at Harry. “I think we’ll be alright, your Highness.”</p><p>They seat themselves and ignore Harry’s confusion at Zayn’s presence. Zayn lays a napkin over Louis’ lap with a flick of the wrist, and then does the same for himself. Louis pats him on the hand in thanks.</p><p>“I thought we were playing chess,” says Louis, watching as Harry once again piles Louis’ plate high with food. He figures it must be some sort of protective alpha thing, wanting to provide for his potential mate. Louis is unimpressed, but lets it go.</p><p>“We are,” says Harry, frowning as he tries to find the best looking fried egg for Louis. It’s kind of amusing to watch him squint at the regimented lines of eggs, prodding at the yolks to test their give like some sort of criminal. “I don’t know about you, but I need sustenance before I can dedicate myself to a game as intense as chess.” He chooses an egg, and slides it onto Louis’ plate.</p><p>“Couldn’t agree more,” says Zayn. </p><p>Harry’s now inspecting a fried mushroom like it holds the secrets to the universe. “Do you play much chess, Master Zayn?” he asks, clearly fishing for the reason that Zayn’s here.</p><p>“Not at all,” says Zayn, quite cheerfully. “But I’ve watched Lou play chess with his friends enough that I think I have the gist of it.”</p><p>Harry grins at him. “Excellent, I look forward to testing your skills!” </p><p>They all relax as the conversation flows, Harry intent on asking Zayn questions about his life and his family. Zayn’s clearly unused to such attention, usually moving behind the scenes, and Louis sympathises, able to attest to the odd intensity of Harry’s gaze. </p><p>“You know, Liam mentioned that you and he ate lunch together yesterday while Louis and I were having tea,” says Harry casually, slicing a fried tomato with care. Louis’ head snaps to stare at Zayn, who’s looking unusually flustered. That is to say, his usually pale cheeks have the barest tinge of pink. “Liam reckons you’re the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen. I disagree, of course,” he says, nodding at Louis like that should be obvious, “but Liam seems utterly entranced. What say you, Master Zayn?”</p><p>Zayn rolls his eyes. “I say that Lord Liam ought to get his eyes checked.”</p><p>“<em>I</em> say that Lord Liam ought to ask you out,” says Louis, surprised but delighted at this development.</p><p>“What do you think lunch yesterday was?” snaps Zayn, and Louis’ face lights up.</p><p>“Zayn,” he coos. “Why on earth didn’t you mention? We could’ve celebrated!”</p><p>“You seemed busy when I got in,” says Zayn, eyes warning Louis not to push it. Louis’ mouth snaps shut at the realisation that Zayn must’ve heard Louis getting off last night, and Harry’s interest seems to grow.</p><p>“Care to elaborate?” Harry wonders.</p><p>“Not at all,” says Zayn, assured that Louis isn’t going to continue with the subject.</p><p>Harry pouts. “Perhaps later,” he says.</p><p>“Unlikely,” mutters Louis, and takes a noisy sip of tea just to watch Harry twitch.</p><p>They finish their food quickly, and soon enough they’re on their way to the library. Harry had apparently left his special chess set there the other day, and thus decided to shift the location of their match.</p><p>Harry goes to walk beside Louis, but Zayn quickly wedges himself between them, so there’s no chance for them to accidentally brush hands or the like. Louis quite happily grasps Zayn’s elbow.</p><p>Harry looks torn between amusement and frustration. “Apologies, Master Zayn, I must’ve missed your promotion from attendant to personal guard,” he says.</p><p>Louis smirks, and lays a hand on Zayn’s arm. “Zayn’s just watching out for me,” he says. “He understands what a risk you are to my virtue. I am, after all, a pretty, helpless omega, and you’re such a strong, strapping alpha.” He bats his eyelashes, and watches the red climb up Harry’s neck.</p><p>“What virtue?” mumbles Harry.</p><p>Louis sends him a sharp look. “What was that, your Highness?”</p><p>“Just clearing my throat, dearest,” says Harry sweetly. “I completely understand your concerns. I share them myself, actually. I thought you were about to throw yourself at me yesterday, when we were discussing our friendship, and I’d hate to have to let you down. I’m saving myself for marriage, you understand. Honestly, Master Zayn, you have no idea how much I appreciate your presence — I’m afraid I must exude sex appeal, because Prince Louis simply cannot resist me.”</p><p>“You’re such a prick,” says Louis, and it’s almost admiring.</p><p>“Thanks, sweetheart,” says Harry, looking honestly delighted.</p><p>“Don’t call me that,” warns Louis.</p><p>“But you’re my sweetheart!” </p><p>“I’m not your anything.”</p><p>Harry ducks around Zayn and makes a move like he’s going to pinch Louis’ cheeks. As fucking if. Louis takes off running, Harry mere steps behind him. Zayn swears and follows.</p><p>Louis stays ahead most of the way, being small and fast as an omega, but eventually Harry catches up, having used his long legs to his advantage. Louis only realises when Harry sweeps him into his arms, carefully tossing Louis over his shoulder while ignoring the omegas indignant shrieks. Louis hammers on Harry’s back and kicks his legs in his fury, until Harry pins them. At the realisation that Harry’s pert little bum is right in reach, Louis pinches it, hard, and Harry flinches away with a very un-princely yelp, Louis toppling out of his hold in the most ungraceful manner.</p><p>He lands on the hard ground with a thump and a pained cry, the impact jarring up his knees and hands. Harry’s with Louis in an instant.</p><p>“Fuck,” he says, eyes wide and panicked as he helps Louis stand up again. Louis thinks that might be the first time he’s ever heard Harry swear. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, Louis.”</p><p>Harry’s hands hover over Louis’ body, clearly unsure if he’s allowed to touch. The thought of Harry’s hands on Louis’ body brings back the uncomfortable memory of last night’s dream. Louis slaps him away, and takes off again, determined to win even though a competition was never really declared. This time, Harry’s a bit slower on the uptake.</p><p>“Last one to the library is a slow poke!” Louis shouts, and that’s what gets Harry moving again.</p><p>When they get to the library, they’re both sweaty and giggly, Louis shamelessly lauding his win over a breathless Harry while everyone else gawks, attention drawn away from their books. Zayn stumbles in a little while later, looking mildly furious at having had to run.</p><p>“No more running,” he hisses, chestnut eyes narrowed. His cheeks are flushed. “Go play chess, you wankers.”</p><p>“That’s you <em>royal</em> wankers to you, Zayn,” says Louis, scandalised.</p><p>Zayn closes his eyes as if begging for patience, and opens them again. “Fuck off, go play chess.”</p><p>Harry looks utterly delighted at this exchange, and Louis begins to wonder if he’s ever experienced anything other than unfiltered deference. Harry eyes the various people in the library, and quickly offers Louis his elbow. Soon enough, they’re seated across from each other, chess set on the table between them. Zayn’s settled himself nearby with a book, though Louis can tell that he has half an ear on Louis and Harry’s conversation.</p><p>Louis isn’t particularly good at chess, but he isn’t bad either. His father taught him when he was young, but Louis can’t say he’s ever been interested enough in chess to become anything more than proficient. Harry seems to know what he’s doing, and there’s a competitive glint in his eye that suggests pure confidence. Louis is never inclined to lose anything when it comes to Harry, but he may have no choice.</p><p>“The Winter Market opens tomorrow,” says Harry while Louis considers his options, propping up his chin with his hand. “Are you excited? You’ll be joining my family and I to officially open it.”</p><p>“I have to help open the market?” says Louis, not even attempting to hide his disdain. He hates the thought of appearing with the royal family to open the market as if he’s now one of them. It makes it seem like the bonding is officially going ahead, like Louis approves of the match. Considering he’s still leaving soon, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “Seems in bad taste.” </p><p>“How do you mean?”</p><p>Louis shrugs. “I mean, I’m leaving in a couple of days. Why make it seem like I’m… I don’t know, aligned with your family?” He makes his move, and leans back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other to resist the temptation to curl up. “Cruel to tempt everyone with a potential match, only to have it yanked away from them.”</p><p>Harry huffs out a laugh. “That’s a bit harsh,” he says, gaze trained on the chess board.</p><p>Louis raises his eyebrows. “Sorry, darling, are you still trying to pretend that this is real?”</p><p>It’s a nasty thing to say, and Harry’s flinch doesn’t give Louis the satisfaction he thought it might. Zayn’s frozen, page paused mid-turn.</p><p>“Right,” says Harry, and his face has gone blank. The lingering joy from their race has been erased. “Silly me. I’ll inform my parents this evening.”</p><p>“Excellent,” is all Louis says. The rest of their match goes by quietly, Harry clearly lost in thought. Zayn joins them once he’s done flicking through his novel, and watches the game with one hand propping up his chin.</p><p>Louis can already see that he’s going to lose, but Harry seems distracted enough that he perhaps hasn’t noticed. Zayn has.</p><p>“Remember Lord Charles, Louis?” he says, smirking. </p><p>Louis gives him an exaggerated roll of the eyes, and says, “How could I forget?”</p><p>“Slimy git,” says Zayn.</p><p>“Who’s Lord Charles?” wonders Harry, brow creased as he analyses the board.</p><p>“One of my suitors from a couple of years ago,” explains Louis. “I was nineteen, almost twenty, and my parents were adamant that I needed to be bonded sooner rather than later.” He makes a face, to ensure that Harry knows exactly what he thinks about that.</p><p>“There were suitors hanging around the palace all the time,” says Zayn, scowling. “And they all thought they had a chance. Don’t know why, Louis didn’t exactly encourage them. But Lord Charles—”</p><p>“—persistent bugger—”</p><p>“—wouldn’t let it go. So he invited Louis for tea and a game of chess. Lou’s parents made him accept, of course—”</p><p>“—fucking infuriating,” mutters Louis.</p><p>“—and Lord Charles <em>insisted</em> that Louis must not know how to play chess, as an omega who has ‘nothing better to do than sew and look pretty’. You should’ve seen Lou’s face, if looks could kill—”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m fairly familiar with the prince’s repertoire of murderous expressions,” says Harry, and he’s even starting to look cheerful as he anticipates where the story’s going.</p><p>“Anyway, Lord Charles decided that it was his duty to help the poor, incompetent omega, and sat right beside Louis and would guide poor Lou’s hands to move the pieces. I thought Lou was going to murder him, I swear,” says Zayn, shaking his head. “And all the time, he’d be saying shit like ‘good omega’ and ‘see, now I’m here to take care of you’. I was ready to vomit myself, so I don’t know how Louis kept his composure so well.”</p><p>Louis, noticing the way Harry’s lip is curling with disgust, reassures him that, “Don’t worry, I fixed him right up.”</p><p>“How?” </p><p>Now it’s Louis’ turn to smirk. “Well, I wanted him out of my house as soon as possible, so I did a bit of research. It turns out that dearest Lord Charles is simply <em>terrified</em> of frogs! You may not know this, but the palace has a fairly sizeable pond, lovely to sit by when it’s warm. Coincidentally, the pond is often frequented by frogs. I invited Lord Charles to come for a stroll with me on a hot day, and I was having such struggle with my parasol that when I was trying to open it, my elbow flew backwards and hit Lord Charles in the chest. Poor chap wasn’t paying attention, lost his balance, and ended up in the pond! I’ve never seen such an almighty splash! It would’ve been fine, but unfortunately, the frogs mistook him for a lily pad. Lord Charles had a <em>terrible</em> temper tantrum, let me tell you, there was spittle flying everywhere, and my parents decided that he wouldn’t be a welcome addition to our family. The dear alpha was escorted out, and wasn’t invited back.”</p><p>Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being proud of how he dealt with that wanker. Personally, he thought it had been very diplomatic. </p><p>“Well,” says Harry, looking reluctantly impressed, “I’m glad, then, that I haven’t pushed you yet to such lengths.”</p><p>“There’s still time,” assures Louis.</p><p>Harry offers him a bland smile. “Not if you’re leaving in two days. Checkmate.”</p><p>*</p><p>As the royal family of Cheshire make their speeches and cut the ribbon to officially open the Winter Markets, Harry can barely keep his eyes off Louis. Louis is unsurprised, though a frisson of satisfaction still alights in his stomach.</p><p>He’s honestly gone out of his way to ensure he looks incredible today, Zayn having pulled his hair into a sweet curled up-do that both softens his face and emphasises his delicate bone structure. His clothes are thick and warm, his velvet jacket cut just so to show off his waist, the sage green of it the perfect complement to his eyes. He’d even gone as far as to dab some rouge onto his lips and cheeks, a subtle trick that makes him look pretty and youthful, like a proper omega.</p><p>Harry’s mouth had dropped open as soon as Louis opened the door to his chambers, but unfortunately, Louis hadn’t quite been able to enjoy the reaction fully, too busy taking in the alpha. </p><p>Harry’s looking too handsome for his own good, loathe as Louis is to admit it. His jacket is coloured a dark blue and embroidered like the night sky, and Louis thinks that each item of clothing in Harry’s wardrobe must take days to make, with the intricacy of it all. His hair’s been smoothed into elegant curls that frame his face wonderfully, and Louis’ been struggling to resist the urge to mess it up.</p><p>Louis had almost forgotten how irritating the alpha could be, but then he opened his mouth.</p><p>“My prince,” Harry had breathed, eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. “You are… a vision. I can barely look at you for fear of being blinded by your beauty.” He swiped a hand over his mouth, like he was entirely lost for words. “Roses, dawn, the brightest jewels cannot compare. And how lucky am I? To think that today, hundreds will witness your magnificence, and then must go on with the knowledge that you are meant for me, my omega. The goddess truly blessed me when she brought you into my life. I can only hope to be worthy of such a gift.”</p><p>Louis’ cheeks had gone hot and red as he seethed. The nerve! The nerve of Harry, to speak as if Louis was surely his. The nerve, to offer Louis such presumptuous compliments that made his chest seize as if he’d been struck by lightning. The nerve, to look upon Louis with such care in his eyes, such genuine delight at the sight of him.</p><p>And Louis, caught off guard, abandoned by all training, said, “Um.”</p><p>He’s still recovering from the humiliation of it.</p><p>The royal family wave at the cheering crowds, and finally step aside so that people can start entering the marketplace. Excitement is buzzing in the air, children running around with coins jangling in their pockets as their parents laugh and chat with friends. It’s lovely to see, and it doesn’t take Harry long before he’s returning to Louis, eager to join in on the fun.</p><p>There’re two guards trailing them, and Harry pays them no mind as he drags Louis over to their first stop, the chestnut stall. He weaves through the crowds expertly, clearly a seasoned market-goer. Or perhaps the crowds just part for him as soon as they see the royal insignias. Louis thinks that’s the more likely explanation.</p><p>The chestnut stall has a small line, so it takes them a little while to get to the front. Louis is relieved to note that Harry isn’t the type to cut in just because he’s a prince, something Louis has seen all too often from past suitors. When they do get to the front, the lady looks happy to see them.</p><p>“Prince Harry! How can I help you, my love?”</p><p>“One bag of chestnuts, please, Miss Rita!” says Harry, beaming, and Miss Rita shakes her head with an indulgent smile. With other customers she had filled the bag three quarters of the way, but for Harry she fills the bag to the brim with a conspiratorial wink.</p><p>“Thank you very much, ma’am,” says Louis, taking the bag while Harry pays, the chestnuts hot against his fingers. Miss Rita’s smile widens.</p><p>“Thank <em>you</em>, dear,” she says, eyes a warm caramel. “Prince Harry seems very happy.”</p><p>Harry pulls Louis closer, warm and affectionate, and Louis tolerates it. People around them coo.</p><p>“Likely because of all the chestnuts he’s about to eat,” Louis quips, and the lady laughs.</p><p>“Cheeky,” she says, and Louis offers a helpless shrug.</p><p>“We’ll see you next time, Miss Rita, thank you for these,” says Harry, ever polite, and Miss Rita waves them off. Harry turns to Louis. “Told you she gives me extra.” His face has a hint of smugness, and it makes Louis laugh.</p><p>He can hardly believe that this all started only two weeks ago.</p><p>“Very kind of her,” Louis agrees. Harry reaches for a chestnut, and tosses it between his hands at the realisation that they’re still too hot to peel. Stubbornly, that doesn’t stop him from trying to peel it. Predictably, he burns his fingertips.</p><p>“Ow,” says Harry, pouting, as he’s forced to drop the chestnut back into the bag. </p><p>“That’s what happens when you’re impatient,” says Louis, but still takes one of Harry’s hands in his to inspect the damage. His fingertips are only the slightest bit red, and knowing that Harry isn’t actually hurt in any way, he allows himself to roll his eyes. “You’re fine, you big baby.” He drops Harry’s hand, and wraps his own hands back around the steaming bag of chestnuts.</p><p>Harry’s still pouting. “You can keep holding my hand, you know,” he says.</p><p>Louis scoffs. “I wasn’t holding your hand, princeling, I was inspecting it for injuries. As you are fine, I have no further reason to hold it.”</p><p>Harry’s pout turns to a look of consideration. “So you’re saying that I simply have to injure myself for you to hold my hand?” His eyes flicker to a stall that’s selling sharp, decorative knives, and then to another where a butcher is pounding a strip of meat.</p><p>“Not what I meant,” Louis says flatly. “Anyway, the chestnuts are keeping my hands warm.”</p><p>“Where’re your gloves?” Harry’s brow is creased with concern.</p><p>“Didn’t think it’d be this cold,” admits Louis.</p><p>It’s incredible how quickly Harry goes all protective alpha when he realises that Louis isn’t completely bundled up from the cold. His frown deepens, and his lips purse, and he gently tugs Louis along, grumbling lowly about Louis being careless with his extremities, until they find a store selling knitted goods of the most excellent quality. There, Harry pointedly waits and makes charming conversation with the flustered stall-owner until Louis chooses a lovely pair of wool gloves that’ve been dyed a dark blue. While Harry pays, Louis slides them on and offers the stall-owner compliments on their excellent work. His hands are certainly a lot warmer now.</p><p>The only issue is that since Louis can’t peel chestnuts well with his gloves on, and Harry won’t let him even think of taking them, Harry’s taken it upon himself to peel the chestnuts and then pop them into Louis’ mouth, like Louis’ a child. It’s taking everything in Louis not to nip at the prince’s fingers with each bite. He thinks Harry’s taking some sort of smug satisfaction in the task.</p><p>“Excuse me, your Highness, but shouldn’t you also be wearing gloves? Wouldn’t want those princely fingers falling off.” </p><p>Harry waves him off. “Alphas run hotter,” he says, which is frankly ridiculous. “Anyway, how would we eat the chestnuts if I wore my gloves?”</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Louis says, “Clearly we must find ourselves assistants to feed us our chestnuts. That’s a very royal thing to do, is it not?”</p><p>“I’m afraid I couldn’t bear to see anyone else’s fingers near your mouth,” says Harry, unapologetic, and that simply will not do.</p><p>“I once went on a picnic with a suitor who insisted on feeding me grapes,” muses Louis, and smirks when he hears the bag of chestnuts crumple in Harry’s tightening fist. “It was quite delightful, actually, only he later received a letter from a past lover asking for his hand in marriage, and thus tragically abandoned me. It was very romantic, and I was happy for him, but I frequently think of him as the one that got away. I mean, who else will I find to feed me grapes?”</p><p>Louis can barely withhold his laughter at Harry’s sour face. </p><p>“He sounds like a fool,” he grumbles. “Who on earth would choose someone else over you?”</p><p>“That’s flattering, dear, but I assure you that I’m not that special. I think she was his childhood sweetheart, too, it was lovely. I was invited to their wedding, but I wasn’t able to attend. I was simply too heartbroken.”</p><p>“Oh, give me a break,” says Harry, and finally Louis bursts into laughter, his cackles ringing through the air while Harry tries his best to supress a smile.</p><p>“Harry, Louis! Fancy seeing you here!”</p><p>“Niall!” says Louis in greeting as the omega makes his way out of the crowd to where they’re standing. Harry waves. “How are you, love?”</p><p>Niall’s grin is sugary, half-eaten chimney cake clutched in his hands. “Excellent,” he says. “Nothing better than the Winter Markets. Are you enjoying yourselves?”</p><p>“I think I’d be enjoying myself more if I had one of those,” says Louis, nodding at the cake.</p><p>For some reason, Niall finds this inexplicably amusing. He claps a sheepish-looking Harry on the back, and says, “Harry’s not allowed to buy chimney cakes anymore after he ate nine of them and made himself sick a few years back. The queen was furious.”</p><p>“It was a dare,” Harry protests. “I had to.”</p><p>“If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?” wonders Louis.</p><p>“Here, Louis, try some of mine,” says Niall, heading off the tangent before it can get heated. He tears off some cake and stuffs it into Louis’ mouth before Louis can even blink. He chews and swallows quickly, deciding quickly that he needs to purchase his own. It melts in his mouth, all sugar and cinnamon. He briefly considers stealing Niall’s, but ultimately decides that that would be rude.</p><p>“Say, Niall, are you looking for work? If so, his Highness and I were just talking about how we both need someone to hand-feed us our meals, and you just did an excellent job at feeding me that chimney cake.”</p><p>“Oh goddess,” sighs Harry. “Niall, please ignore him. Louis, would you like your own chimney cake?”</p><p>Louis eagerly agrees.</p><p>“Alright, then. Ni, are you alone? You’re welcome to join us.”</p><p>“I’d love to! Had an escort, but ducked him. He was so boring, I couldn’t take it, and Louis and I have been meaning to spend time together, anyway. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you? Shame you aren’t staying longer.”</p><p>The comment makes Louis stiffen a little. “Yes, I’m leaving tomorrow. My stay here has been lovely, though. I’ve met many great people.”</p><p>Niall links their arms, and they start wandering towards the stall selling chimney cakes, Harry walking along Louis’ other side, one hand hovering over the small of his back.</p><p>“Yes, Lady Ava certainly thinks you’re a delight. As do most of the nobles. I assume you’re escorting Louis home, Harry? Will you holiday in Doncaster?”</p><p>Louis carefully avoids looking at Harry’s face.</p><p>“As far as I’m aware, there are no plans for me to escort Louis home. I certainly wouldn’t protest, however, if I were invited to do so.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure Louis would be delighted to have your company! I imagine soulmates wouldn’t want to be apart for long,” says Niall.</p><p>Inwardly, Louis curses Niall and his scheming ways. Outwardly, Louis offers a non-committal hum that makes Harry huff out a laugh.</p><p>Niall frowns as he glances between them. “Am I overstepping?”</p><p>“Of course not, Niall, we just haven’t really had a chance to discuss our plans, yet,” says Harry. “Everything’s a bit uncertain.”</p><p>Niall’s frown deepens.</p><p>“Oh, look! That lady’s doing magic tricks!” says Louis. It’s genuinely exciting, but it also works quite conveniently as a distraction. Right now, she’s pulling a seemingly endless amount of handkerchiefs from her sleeve.</p><p>“Oh, she’s great,” enthuses Niall. “Simple tricks, but fun to watch. Harry, why don’t you grab our cakes while we stay and watch the show?”</p><p>Harry looks a little reluctant, but ultimately agrees. He leaves one of the guards with them and then heads off, while Louis and Niall join the little crowd that’s forming around the magician. She has a cheeky glint in her brown eyes, and a friendly smirk as she asks for volunteers from the crowd. For what, Louis isn’t sure.</p><p>Eventually someone comes out, and she begins to do a trick involving a deck of cards. Louis can’t quite hear what’s happening exactly, but he watches as the volunteer signs a specific card before putting it back in the deck. The magician shuffles, hands moving so quickly it’s mesmerising, and eventually pulls out the signed card once again while the crowd cheers. Louis shifts on his feet, starting to feel a bit chilly now that they’ve stopped moving.</p><p>“Oh, who’s that in the back?” The magician holds a hand up to shade her eyes. Everyone starts looking around. Louis gets a sense of déjà vu. “Do I spy Prince Harry’s chosen? Oh, it is! I could never forget those blue eyes. Come forward, dearest, I have a special trick, just for you.”</p><p>“I couldn’t, really—” </p><p>“I insist!”</p><p>Somehow, Louis ends up at the front, crowd eager to shuffle him forward and watch the show. The magician’s an alpha, and she smells like the pages of a book. She smiles at him.</p><p>“Lovely to meet you, Prince Louis, my name is Rita. How would you like to assist me today?”</p><p>Louis puts on his princely mask, and nods. “I’d love to, Rita. What would you like me to do?”</p><p>“Well, it appears that your coin purse has gone missing, has it not?”</p><p>Louis blanches a little, and presses a hand to where his coin purse was hanging at his hip. Was, being the key word, because it’s no longer there. The crowd’s laughing a little, and when Louis looks to Niall, he’s grinning like a loon.</p><p>“It appears so,” says Louis, exaggerating his shock. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”</p><p>Rita presses a hand to her chest. “I’d never! But, I’m more than happy to help you find your money, your Highness. It simply wouldn’t do for a foreign prince to be the victim of theft in our own dear Cheshire, would it, ladies and gentlemen?”</p><p>The crowd boos.</p><p>“Exactly, my loves, exactly,” she says. “Now, which one of you took the prince’s purse, hmm?” She approaches the crowd, peering out at them, before bending down to speak to a little girl. “Was it you, sweetheart? You can tell the truth, I won’t get you in trouble.” The girl, giggling, shakes her head. “Oh? Perhaps it’s this gentleman here? No? Hmm.” Rita taps at her mouth, looking concerned.</p><p>When Louis goes to make a face at Niall, he makes eye contact with Harry, who’s joined Niall and the guards. He’s watching the events with an amused tilt to his mouth, two chimney cakes in hand. Louis decides that he’s looking far too content.</p><p>“Rita, if I may?”</p><p>Rita turns back to Louis. “By all means, your Highness,” she says. He can’t quite tell if it’s genuine or not.</p><p>“Well, it’s just that Prince Harry is looking awfully guilty, is he not?” suggests Louis with an innocent quirk of his eyebrows.</p><p>The entire crowd follows the direction of Louis’ gaze, and people start gasping at the sight of Harry, who looks like he’s trying not to sigh. Rita looks delighted at the turn of events.</p><p>“Oh, it would be treasonous to agree, but if you think so, I’m sure the prince would be more than happy to come forward and prove you wrong…?”</p><p>Niall lets out a whoop and gently shoves a reluctant Harry forward, taking the cakes from his hand in the same motion. When he gets to the front, he stands beside Louis, wrapping an arm around his waist. The crowd coos.</p><p>“Now, your Highness, I’d like to stress that I have absolute faith in your innocence,” says Rita, batting her eyelashes. “However, Prince Louis is a bit uncertain. Would you mind if I checked over your person for the prince’s coin purse?”</p><p>Louis blanches a little, unsure what Rita means by checking Harry over, but Harry merely steps forward, spreading his arms.</p><p>“By all means, madam,” he says. “I have nothing to hide.”</p><p>Rita makes a show of it, asking Harry to spin around slowly, hovering her hands just above his body as she searches for the coin purse. It’s when she reaches his hips that she gasps, making Harry jump a little.</p><p>“Oh dear,” she says. “I didn’t want to believe it, but…” She draws Louis’ coin purse from inside Harry’s jacket, and dangles it in the air to show the crowd. They all gasp. Louis has to cover his mouth with one hand to hide his glee. “Prince Harry, is there anything you’d like to say for yourself?”</p><p>“I have no idea how that got there,” says Harry. “Louis, darling, you know I’d never.”</p><p>“Prince Louis, you may find this hard to hear, but the purse is also… empty.” Rita tuts, and offers everyone a sympathetic grimace. “Prince Harry, are you not rich enough?”</p><p>Somewhere in the crowd, Niall bursts into hysterics. Harry himself can’t seem to help his grin, dimples popping in a way that likely has all the omegas around them fainting.</p><p>“Prince Louis, before you offer his Highness due punishment,” she pauses for a wink, “would you like my assistance in finding your coin?”</p><p>“I would deeply appreciate it, Rita,” says Louis. “It’s heartening to know that at least <em>someone</em> here holds some semblance of loyalty.”</p><p>“Oh, of course, dear,” she says, nodding rapidly. “Now, stay still for me, please. I sense that the coins are on your person. Very clever, Prince Harry, stashing them somewhere easy to access.”</p><p>Louis almost chokes. Harry goes bright red, which would be funny if Louis weren’t so embarrassed. Thankfully, things go quickly after that, with Rita pulling coins out from behind Louis’ ears, his jacket pockets, and, in one instance that has Harry’s jaw clenching, his mouth. She takes a bow, once she’s returned all his coin to his purse and presented it to him with a flourish, and the crowd cheers, clapping loudly for the magician’s cheeky tricks.</p><p>“Thank you, your Highnesses, for your cooperation! Enjoy your time at the market,” Rita says. Boldly, she takes his and Harry’s hands in her own and raises them up, before leading them into a bow, greeted with more cheers from the crowd.</p><p>“No, thank <em>you</em>, Rita, for recovering my money from my dastardly… from this scoundrel. I am forever in your debt,” says Louis, flushing a little at his stumble.</p><p>“Oh, don’t judge him too harshly, dear, sometimes one just can’t help the slip of their fingers,” says Rita, and gives him a final pat on the cheek before Harry takes his arm and tugs him away.</p><p>“C’mon, darling, let’s go back to Niall before he eats our chimney cakes,” says Harry. “Thank you, Madam, have a lovely day.”</p><p>*</p><p>The rest of their time at the market is filled with food and shopping. Louis buys several little wooden carved animals for his sisters, incredibly intricate for their size, and Harry buys some candles that have had some sort of scented oil mixed into them. Louis goes back for some of them too — the girls’ll love them. Niall buys them all spiced wine, and they huddle around a flimsy wooden table, warming their hands around their cups. The wine’s sweet, leaves Louis feeling content and comfortable enough to lean into Harry’s side, and rest his head on his shoulder. Harry accepts it, winding an arm around Louis’ waist</p><p>“Cold, Louis?” says Niall. “It’s perfect cuddling weather, wish I had an alpha with me.”</p><p>“You did,” Harry points out. “You just abandoned him.”</p><p>“I want to be cuddling someone I like, though,” says Niall, gesturing at Louis and Harry. “Sir Davy was irritating.”</p><p>Louis makes a face. “I don’t even like Harry,” he says. “He’s just warm.”</p><p>Harry presses a kiss to his hair. “Alright, love.” He sounds like he’s smiling.</p><p>The atmosphere’s broken when someone passing them shouts something. It’s too jumbled for Louis to make out, but it has Harry tensing, and makes Niall wince.</p><p>“What did they say?” says Louis, trying to think back and parse the words, but Niall just shakes his head.</p><p>“Ignore it, you shouldn’t have to hear that shite,” he says.</p><p>Louis looks to Harry, who sighs.</p><p>“Remember when I was telling you about how some people are angry that my intended’s a foreigner? That was one of them.”</p><p>It makes a shiver run through him, the idea that someone would protest so publically, on such a joyful day. Harry’s arm tightens around his waist.</p><p>One of the guards clears their throat, and when Harry turns to them, they whisper that it might be time for the princes to leave the market. Harry looks to Louis, apologetic, but Louis quickly agrees.</p><p>“It’s getting cold, I think it’ll be nice to spend the rest of the day by the fire,” he says. “Niall, will you be accompanying us back to the castle?”</p><p>“Nah, I think I’ll do a bit more shopping, lads,” says Niall. “But you both enjoy yourselves! Louis, I’ll be there to farewell you in the morning.”</p><p>They hug and go their separate ways. There’s a carriage waiting for them outside the marketplace, and a small group of people watch as Harry helps Louis in. Louis wonders if any of them agree that he’s too foreign to be with Harry.</p><p>“Do you mind if we stop off at the temple first? I bought something for Tariana, she never goes to the market,” says Harry.</p><p>Louis doesn’t particularly want to go anywhere near the temple, but he says, “Of course, that’s fine.”</p><p>The ride is fairly quick, and they don’t speak much, both tired from the market. When they arrive at the temple, Seer Tariana’s waiting at the entrance, like she knew they were coming. Louis figures that she probably heard the horses.</p><p>“Greetings, your Highnesses! Did you enjoy the market? The magician was funny, was she not?”</p><p>Louis starts. “How did you—”</p><p>“Come in, come in, it’s warmer inside,” says Seer Tariana, grinning as she turns around. Harry’s fighting a smile as well. Louis scowls.</p><p>While Harry and Seer Tariana make their way towards the front, chatting, Louis hangs back. The temple is like something he’s never seen before, huge and spacious, entirely made of marble. The windows are bright, made of coloured broken glass, like a mosaic. The dark purple carpet running up to the altar muffles the sound of any footsteps. There are lit candles everywhere, making everything seem shadowy, and huge embroidered tapestries line the walls. Everything smells like burnt sage, something Louis only recognises because one of his old nursemaids had been obsessed with it. It’s a beautiful space, really, but Louis doesn’t think he’d ever feel comfortable in it.</p><p>Seer Tariana’s pleased gasp when presented with her gift echoes through the building. She holds it up to the light, revealing an iridescent embroidered fabric, delicate and somewhat sheer.</p><p>“It’s a scarf,” explains Harry, excited, “for your hair! I know how you like to tie it back sometimes, and I thought this would suit you wonderfully.”</p><p>“It’s beautiful, Harry, thank you,” says Seer Tariana. Louis wonders at the use of the prince’s given name, wonders how close Harry is with the seer. He supposes they’re around similar ages, he wouldn’t be surprised if they grew up together, given the status and respect seers in this kingdom are given.</p><p>They don’t stay long after that. Seer Tariana volunteers to walk them out, telling them to get back to the castle before it gets too dark. She decides to walk beside Louis, for some reason, while Harry moves further ahead. They exchange glances.</p><p>“I suppose the goddess was wrong, then,” says Louis.</p><p>Her eyebrows rise. “How so?”</p><p>“Well, I’m leaving tomorrow. Harry isn’t exactly coming with me.”</p><p>Seer Tariana smiles, and looks down, long eyelashes casting shadows over her cheeks. “We shall see, your Highness.”</p><p>Louis doesn’t like how foreboding that sounds. He changes the subject. “Why are there tapestries everywhere? In the castle they’re more spread out.”</p><p>“To hide the secret passages,” says Seer Tariana. “Some are tricks, others are real. A select few know of them.”</p><p>He doesn’t know if she’s fucking with him or not. “Oh?”</p><p>“Mmm. They were created years ago, courtesy of a paranoid king. Behind each tapestry is a passage, but only one leads back to the castle, and only royalty and their seers know which one it is. Many an enemy have been lost in the tunnels.”</p><p>Louis swallows, feeling a bit ill at the concept of rotting carcasses wandering in the dark damp below.</p><p>“Clever,” he says.</p><p>Seer Tariana hums something, the snippet of what sounds like an old nursery rhyme his nursemaid used to sing him, and gives him a sideways look. “Take care, your Highness. I’ll see you soon.”</p><p>*</p><p>Louis can’t sleep. As he steps into his slippers, a niggling voice that sounds an awful lot like Zayn tells him that wandering the castle at night is a bad idea. Louis ignores it.</p><p>The castle’s eerie at night. Everything’s quiet, maids and butlers and cooks sleeping in their beds, the corridors completely empty. It’s chilly, too, with most of the fires having been put out for the night. Louis wishes distantly that his robe was made of something thicker than silk.</p><p>Somehow, he finds his way to the ballroom. He only recognises it because the walls beside the doors are lined with portraits of past rulers, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget Queen Mary IV’s sneer. A snippet of music catches his ear, something on the piano, and he realises that there’s a bit of light coming from beneath the ballroom doors.</p><p>In a deeply undignified move, Louis puts his eye to the keyhole, and peeks through. For a second he can’t quite make things out, but then he focuses, and suddenly Harry’s within view, his brown curls unmistakeable, slowly moving about the dancefloor with another boy in his arms.</p><p>Frowning, Louis squints, silently urging the pair to circle around so that he can see the face of Harry’s dance partner, but then Harry stumbles, and the other boy laughs an unmistakeable laugh.</p><p>The question is, why on earth is Harry dancing with Niall in the middle of the night?</p><p>It’s suspicious, for many reasons. Harry can’t dance, Harry’s meant to be interested in Louis, Niall is another omega, it’s the middle of the night, Louis doesn’t know anything about this, Niall’s meant to be Louis’ friend. There’s a lot to it, and Louis’ struggling to reconcile anything he’s seeing right now. His pulse is thundering in his ears.</p><p>“Fucking hell, mate, you’re never going to keep up with him at this rate,” says Niall, and Harry huffs.</p><p>“Leave it,” he says. “M’doing my best.”</p><p>“Unfortunately, your best is his worst.”</p><p>“You said you wouldn’t make fun,” says Harry, pouting.</p><p>Louis sees red when Niall reaches up to pat Harry’s cheek, breath quickening when Niall curls his hand around the nape of Harry’s neck. Inwardly, he seethes, though he tries to reason that <em>technically</em> he has no claim over Harry, nor does he want one. Louis’ leaving tomorrow, after all. He just thinks it’s rude that Niall’s making a move while Louis’ still in the kingdom.</p><p>Harry stills. “Do you smell that?”</p><p>“No? What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Smells like Louis,” he says. “But angry.”</p><p>Oops. Louis figures that that’s his cue to leave. Being caught spying on this would be nothing short of absolute humiliation.</p><p>Niall pauses for a moment, and shrugs. “Nah, pet, he’s probably in bed. He has a big day tomorrow. He was knackered at dinner, thought he was going to fall asleep on your shoulder.”</p><p>Harry sounds pleased when he says, “Yeah, so did I. Let’s start again.”</p><p>Louis creeps away, and starts running when he turns the corner. He pushes everything that he’s witnessed out of his mind, and doesn’t analyse why he’s so upset. He buries himself beneath the covers of his bed, grateful that tomorrow he’ll be away from this confusing, frustrating kingdom.</p><p>*</p><p>Louis knocks on Harry’s door early in the morning, eager to say goodbye and be on his way. He feels a distant ache at the thought of leaving the alpha, but that’s overcome by Louis’ excitement about going home and seeing his siblings again. He’s sure that they’ll all get a good laugh out of this prophecy story, and he’ll finally be away from the temptation that is Prince Harry of Cheshire. Hopefully they’ll just exchange letters every once in a while and gradually forget about what could have happened here.</p><p>When Harry opens the door, he’s fully dressed, showing no indication that he was up late last night dancing. His eyes are bright, smile wide and welcoming as he ushers Louis into his rooms, ignoring Louis’ mild protests that this shouldn’t take long.</p><p>“Tea, your Highness?” Harry throws over his shoulder, already wandering over to his pretty pink tea set.</p><p>“No, thank you, I’ve only come to say goodbye.” Louis can’t stop himself from beaming, too ecstatic to be returning home.</p><p>Harry returns his smile, but in a manner so confused that Louis’ hackles raise automatically. “Has no one told you?”</p><p>Louis’ smile drops. “Told me what?”</p><p>“It snowed overnight,” says Harry, brow creased as his eyes flicker over Louis’ face, clearly trying to gauge the reaction.</p><p>Louis raises an eyebrow. “And?” He feels like he knows what Harry’s going to say, and it makes something furious rise in his chest, head going fuzzy with disbelief.</p><p>Harry makes a face. “There’s too much of it. The pass is blocked off for the foreseeable future. There’s no feasible way to get you home without anyone getting hurt, or killed. You’ll simply have to extend your time here until the snow melts.”</p><p>Louis sways on his feet, the sheer panic racing through his veins making him dizzy. Harry’s quick to help him sit, grip sure and gentle as he lowers Louis onto a velvet couch.</p><p>“This can’t be happening,” breathes Louis, squeezing his eyes shut so that he doesn’t have to see Harry’s face, which is sure to be smug.</p><p>If only he’d left last week with his parents, then he wouldn’t be stuck in this mess.</p><p>The couch shifts as Harry settles himself beside Louis, close enough for their knees to brush, Harry angling himself towards Louis. “I’m sorry, love. I know how excited you were to see your siblings again,” says Harry, voice is low and sympathetic.</p><p>When Louis glances over, Harry’s watching him with concern, and nibbling at his lower lip. His scent’s radiating through the room, the instinctive need to comfort a distressed omega obviously taking control. Honestly, it’s working. The more Louis breathes, the less upset he feels.</p><p>“How long until the snow melts?” he asks, but he isn’t even sure he wants to know the answer.</p><p>“We can’t know for sure,” says Harry. “It usually takes some time. You’ll likely be here at least another week. But,” Harry rushes to add as Louis’ face drops, “there is some good news. How do you feel about snowmen?”</p><p>“They’re terrible conversationalists,” says Louis, “but fun to build. Why?”</p><p>Harry claps his hands. “Excellent! Bundle up, darling, we’re going to spend the day in the snow. Don’t forget your gloves!”</p><p>*</p><p>Zayn is distinctly disgruntled to discover that he has to unpack Louis’ things all over again, and declines Louis’ invitation to play in the snow. He does, however, help Louis get into his warmest clothes, knowing how unbearable he gets when he’s cold.</p><p>Louis and Harry meet by the castle doors, and this time Louis doesn’t bother being late. Unfortunately, he’s greeted with a crisp snowball to the chest.</p><p>“Oi!”</p><p>“Stay alert, your Highness!” Harry shouts, laughing, before ducking away to make more snowballs.</p><p>Louis decides that such insolence cannot be allowed, and hides himself behind a tall bush while he compiles his own stash of snowballs. Having been in plenty of snowball battles with his sisters, he considers himself to be a bit of an expert. Ignoring the wet seeping into his new gloves, he peeks around the bush and in one quick motion lobs a snowball at a sputtering Harry.</p><p>“Stay alert, your Highness!” mocks Louis, and Harry’s responding cackle scares away a bird that was lingering on a branch near his head.</p><p>The snowball fight leaves them shivering with pink faces and cheeks aching from all their laughter. Both getting increasingly competitive, the fight ends only after Louis climbs up a tree and rains snowballs down the back of Harry’s jacket, making him jump around and yelp in the most amusing way.</p><p>“Snowmen?” suggests Harry, panting. “Or are you too cold?”</p><p>Louis stiffens. “I’m not cold,” he says, even though it feels like his breath is freezing inside his lungs. “Are you cold?”</p><p>Harry huffs, clearly hiding a smile. “That wasn’t a challenge, love, I just don’t want you getting sick.”</p><p>“What, you’re not scared of getting sick?”</p><p>“Snowmen it is!” says Harry brightly.</p><p>They take a second to run through the castle to get some accessories, Harry showing him a secret shortcut behind a tapestry of nymphs bathing in a flower-filled lake that gets them to the royal corridor within a minute. When they return, they have scarves and buttons, and Harry’s asked a servant to bring them out carrots for the nose.</p><p>It’s nice to do something like this with Harry. They don’t talk much, since building a snowman is a little more labour intensive, but they work together well to get the base of the snowman together.</p><p>“I used to do this with my sister when we were growing up,” says Harry as he smooths out the bumps on the base.</p><p>“You have a sister?”</p><p>“Yeah, she’s older, her name’s Gemma.” Before Louis can wonder why he hasn’t met her, Harry adds, “She’s visiting a friend in another kingdom at the moment. She was meant to have returned by now, but we received correspondence this morning letting us know that she’s been caught up in the snow, and will be staying longer. So you aren’t the only one, at least.”</p><p>It’s not particularly reassuring. “You two are close?”</p><p>“Very,” confirms Harry. “She’s my best friend.”</p><p>Louis wonders what she’d think of him if she were here. He imagines that she would be furious about Louis’ rejection of her brother.</p><p>“That’s sweet,” he says. “I’m close with my sisters too. They sent me a letter the other day. They miss me a lot and reckon their nanny isn’t as good at football as I am.”</p><p>“That must’ve been nice to hear,” says Harry. “Gemma only told me to stay out of trouble, and to be more charming.”</p><p>Louis thinks that if Harry were to try to be more charming, it would end them all.</p><p>“No need for that,” says Louis. “Your regular charm is more than enough.” He busies himself rolling the next ball for the snowman’s middle.</p><p>“Apparently not,” mutters Harry, but Louis ignores it, and after a second Harry joins him to help.</p><p>From there, it only goes downhill, because as they roll the snow, Harry slips on a patch of ice, and takes them both down with a yelp. They slam to the ground, Louis taking the brunt of it, air knocked out of his lungs and leaving him wheezing. Harry isn’t exactly light, though he immediately scrambles away to take the weight off Louis.</p><p>“Fuck, are you alright? Louis? Does anything hurt?”</p><p>Louis coughs, trying to get his breathing back in rhythm. “Everything hurts,” he says, and Harry looks horrified. “C’mon, princeling, help me up. Ah, this was a terrible idea, you’re too clumsy for anything snow-related.”</p><p>Harry helps him up carefully, with one hand supporting his back and the other clutching his forearm. Louis feels like his entire body’s going to be bruised when he wakes up tomorrow morning. “I’m sorry, Prince Louis, I—”</p><p>“It was an accident, don’t be ridiculous,” says Louis, brushing himself off as best he can.</p><p>“I think it might be time for hot chocolate,” says Harry, frowning. “You’re shivering, your Highness, let’s get you inside. You need a warm bath and then an evening beside the fire. And a hearty dinner.”</p><p>“Alright, <em>Alpha</em>,” says Louis, intending to be mocking. Except it backfires when Harry’s breath catches, eyes going dark as he pulls Louis a little closer, grip tense. His scent deepens, intoxicatingly warm, it leaves Louis’ head spinning, nose instinctively trying to find the spot on Harry’s neck where the scent is strongest.</p><p>“If you don’t want this to go further,” murmurs Harry, eyes closed like he’s grappling for control, “perhaps don’t call me that. <em>Omega</em>.”</p><p>The intimacy of it makes him shiver. No one has ever called him that before, not in that way. Usually it’s more of a threat, or a reprimanding reminder of his status. It doesn’t make him feel anything but rage. But Harry…</p><p>“You promised hot chocolate,” says Louis, and wants to dig a hole and jump when his voice comes out breathy, affected.</p><p>Harry rests his forehead on Louis’ shoulder, a warm pressure, and huffs out a laugh. “I did,” he says. They wait a few moments, both still. Just breathing each other in. Harry pulls away. “Alright, your Highness. Let’s get warm.”</p><p>*</p><p>Dinner is livelier than expected, the entire hall seemingly celebrating the news of both the snow as well as Louis’ extended stay. When Ava sees him, her expression ranges from polite to confused to delighted.</p><p>“You’re still here?” she says as she slides into a seat beside him.</p><p>“The snow’s blocked the passes,” he says, making a face. “I have no choice.”</p><p>Her eyes flash. “Bloody snow,” she says, shaking her head. “This is good news, though! We’ll be able to spend more time together.” She cranes her neck to see around Louis, and says to Harry, “You must be happy, your Highness. Undoubtedly you were praying for the snow to fall. The goddess must’ve heard, no?”</p><p>The question makes Louis pause. It is oddly coincidental that the snow only started when he was planning to leave, but he doesn’t believe that it’s the result of interference from any goddess.</p><p>Harry laughs, and shrugs. “I mean, not exactly, but I won’t be questioning the early snowfall, if that’s what you mean.”</p><p>“I’m sure you won’t,” says Ava.</p><p>Louis busies himself with his stew, ravenous from today’s exertion. Harry hands him a soft bread roll to dip, and Louis thanks him. Ava is quiet beside them. A distraction arrives in the form of Lord Niall, who approaches them with open arms. Louis pushes the image of him dancing with Harry last night to the very back of his mind, and smiles.</p><p>“Louis! Imagine my surprise to wake up this morning to the news that you’re staying another month!”</p><p>“A month?” says Louis. Ava looks similarly surprised. “You must be mistaken, it won’t take a month for the snow to melt, will it?”</p><p>Niall and Harry exchange a look that has Louis’ jaw clenching. The busy day has kept his mind mostly off his delayed departure, but now his frustration is returning.</p><p>“We don’t know how long it’ll take for the snow to melt,” says Harry, “as I told you earlier. However, it wouldn’t be surprising if it did take a while. It’s Winter, it can’t really be helped.”</p><p>“Anyway, we’ll have to make the most of the rest of your time here,” says Niall quickly. “In fact, you should come to my room this evening and roast marshmallows in celebration of the snow!”</p><p>While that sounds nice, Louis thinks the time outside today has worn him down. Not that he’ll ever admit it aloud, but Harry was probably right in that they shouldn’t have gone on to make snowmen after the snowball fight. They should’ve gone inside and sat by the fire for the rest of the today. Louis can already feel a bit of congestion, and he’s unhappy about it. Then again, if he falls ill, that’s an excellent excuse to avoid Harry.</p><p>“Oh, thank you for offering, love, but I’m afraid the prince and I have spent the day in the snow, and I don’t know about him, but I’m utterly exhausted. Another night, perhaps?”</p><p>“You spent the day together?” says Ava, raising her brows at Louis.</p><p>“I thought throwing snowballs at me would cheer him up,” says Harry.</p><p>“And it did,” says Louis, awash with smug contentment at the memory of Harry trying to shake the snow out of his shirt before it all melted. “Anyway, I think I’ll go to bed, if that’s alright. I’m not sure I feel well.”</p><p>Harry takes his wrist before he can duck out, watching with concerned green eyes. “Wait, are you alright? I’ll walk you to your chambers. Have Zayn order some tea, and take a hot bath. Do you have a fever?”</p><p>Magnanimously, Louis allows Harry to press the back of his hand to his forehead, and ignores how much it makes him miss his mother. Harry tuts, and Louis can almost see the alpha in him rearing its head.</p><p>“Prince Louis, you should be in bed. Come, let’s go.”</p><p>Louis decides against fighting it, but can’t resist saying, “I’m not a child, stop fussing.”</p><p>“Just let him go, Harry loves taking care of people,” says Niall.</p><p>And if Louis lets Harry stoke the fire and tuck him into his bed and leave him with a kiss on the forehead, that’s his business and his alone.</p><p>*</p><p>Louis has been sick for three days, and he’s never felt more miserable. His sinuses are clogged up, he can’t stop coughing, and his face is constantly shiny and pink from his mild fever. Harry, the bastard, is fit as a fiddle, only adding insult to injury by spending all his time in Louis’ rooms to ‘keep an eye’ on him.</p><p>He’s been hovering, all protective alpha, leaking his scent everywhere like a Neanderthal. If Louis’ being honest, it hasn’t been so bad. When they’re together, it’s a peaceful sort of quiet, unless they’re both feeling mischievous, in which case there’s nothing peaceful or quiet about them. Zayn still hasn’t forgiven them for his inked-on moustache.</p><p>Mostly, they play cards, or Harry reads love poetry aloud while Louis groans and tosses pillows at him. Eventually, Louis will give up, and just let the rhythm of Harry’s voice soothe him to sleep. One time, Harry asks a violinist to join them for a private performance, which is so ridiculous Louis can barely believe it wasn’t a dream.</p><p>Louis hadn’t realised how much of a mother-hen Harry really is. Every couple of hours he requests that honeyed tea be brought for Louis’ throat; if a blanket slips one inch down Louis’ shoulder, Harry tucks him back in; he frets beside the bed if Louis doesn’t finish his chicken broth; he offers to carry Louis when he needs to go to the bathroom. It’s both annoying and very sweet. Louis’ own mother doesn’t even dote on him this much when he’s ill.</p><p>Zayn tells him the maids have been gossiping about it. Apparently they all think it’s adorable, how close the princes are getting, the way Prince Harry’s taking care of Louis. Louis would find it irritating, except he can’t quite find the energy.</p><p>On the fourth day, Louis awakens feeling better. After spending the morning watching snow drift from the sky while lounging in bed (Harry in the nearby armchair, of course), he persuades Harry to leave to get them lunch, and asks Zayn to run him a bath. Zayn, apparently feeling unusually generous, even oils the water with lavender, and Louis’ never felt more at peace in his life. A steaming bath does wonders in erasing life’s problems. Even better, it makes him feel human, after spending the last few days drowning in snot and sweat. </p><p>He takes his time bathing, lathering soap between his hands and carefully washing every inch of his body. He considers getting off, but decides that he just wants to relax.</p><p>He misses his lovers from home. They’d give him back massages while he bathed, until he was close to drowning from how lax his muscles were. His lovers are few, all betas, since he wants to save knotting for the person he’ll spend the rest of his life with, but they’ve all become good friends. With them, it’s all casual, fun. With Harry, every interaction is loaded with expectation. It feels like a constant battle, with Harry trying to win Louis over, and Louis blatantly refusing to play the game. Except that Harry’s starting to break Louis’ walls down with his gorgeous face and kind heart and charming words, and it’s infuriating. It’s so hard to stay distant when Harry won’t cooperate, hard to stay distant when he’s going to be here for at least another few weeks. Hard to stay distant when Louis genuinely likes Harry as a person, as an alpha. Not that he’ll admit that aloud.</p><p>He sinks into the water, ducking his head under and revelling in the quiet. He stays under, eyes squeezed shut, until his chest grows tight. Then he emerges, panting. He examines the way his skin is shrivelling from the water, and considers emerging from the bath. The water’s beginning to cool anyway.</p><p>In the main room, the door clicks open. It must be either Zayn or Harry. For the sake of his self-control, he hopes it’s Zayn.</p><p>“Zayn! Is that you? Could you pass me a towel and bring me my robe, love?”</p><p>There’s silence. Goosebumps erupt on his bare shoulders. He sinks lower into the bath.</p><p>“Zayn?” Silence. Some rustling. “…Harry?”</p><p>The door slams shut, and instinctively, Louis knows that he’s now alone in his chambers. He wonders briefly if it was a maid, but they always announce themselves. He clambers out of the bath, and dries himself quickly, feeling far too exposed. He wraps the towel around his body, covers as much as he can, before slowly stepping into the main chamber. He looks around, searching for clues as to who entered the room, but he sees nothing until he looks closer at the table beside the main door.</p><p>There’s an envelope. Again, his name is written in cursive on the front.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p>With shaking hands, he dresses himself. Then, he steels himself, and opens the letter. The feel of the thick card is oddly grounding.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Prince Louis,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps my last letter was unclear:<br/>
End things with Prince Harry, or die.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>x</em>
</p><p>
  <em>P.S. Tell no one of this, lest your prince suffer.</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Harry watches as Louis paces, unable to stop even as he makes himself dizzy from the constant turning. They’re in Harry’s rooms, Louis having holed up there after discovering the letter, feeling too unsafe to be alone in his own chambers. </p><p>“Louis, what’s wrong? What happened?” Harry’s tone is remarkably patient, considering that’s about the fourth time he’s asked.</p><p>Louis ignores him, and keeps pacing. Harry adjusts the way he’s seated, and on Louis’ next pass, Harry gathers him in his arms and pulls him down to the couch, making Louis’ stomach swoop. Harry ignores Louis’ embarrassing little yelp.</p><p>“You smell like lavender,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ neck.</p><p>Louis supresses a shiver. “Zayn,” he says.</p><p>“Zayn scented you?”</p><p>“Zayn put lavender oil in the bath. He’s a beta, he can’t scent me. You know that.”</p><p>Harry relaxes. “Do you want me to scent you, love? Or, would you like to talk about whatever has made you this anxious?”</p><p>Louis thinks that being scented by Harry would be quite lovely right now. Scenting is intimate, though, more intimate than perhaps he’s ready for. “No to both options.”</p><p>At the very least, Harry’s proximity is helping. Louis’ feeling a little less jittery, now that Harry’s got him wrapped in his arms. It’s a little bit galling.</p><p>“Okay,” says Harry. “Will you at least eat something? There’s a chicken sandwich here.”</p><p>“I love chicken sandwiches,” says Louis.</p><p>“I know,” says Harry, smiling, and offers one to Louis.</p><p>They eat quietly. Louis can’t stop picturing the calligraphy in his mind, heart racing at how trapped he feels. He can’t leave the kingdom because of the snow, but if he stays, he’ll surely die. If he tells anyone about the letters, however, something will undoubtedly happen to Harry, and that’s not a risk Louis is willing to take.</p><p>“Let’s do something fun,” says Harry once they’ve finished eating.</p><p>Louis makes a face, unsure he can get up the enthusiasm for anything fun. “Like what?”</p><p>“Louis,” says Harry, looking mischievous, “have you ever made a pillow fort?”</p><p>“No,” says Louis, interest piqued.</p><p>They begin by gathering blankets and pillows, as many as possible. Harry pushes his furniture around until he’s created a little enclosed space, and then Louis starts piling everything in. He lingers on the fabrics, stroking his fingers over the lovely textures, and it makes him relax. He goes into a bit of a haze, really, hands automatically putting things in their exact, perfect places. He doesn’t notice when Harry pulls away, just sitting back to watch him work, and once he’s done, he lies back and revels in the way his and Harry’s scents are mixing together in his nest.</p><p>His nest. This pile of velvet pillows, silk sheets, and thick blankets, is a nest. The realisation’s only proven by how Harry’s sitting beside it instead of inside, clearly knowledgeable about how territorial omegas can get about their nests, even unintentional ones.</p><p>“You tricked me,” says Louis, but he can’t get up the energy for annoyance when the nest is so comfortable. He’s proud of it too, the structure of the nest ensuring that Louis can stay hidden easily from intruders. And the sheer amount of pillows and blankets are perfect for snuggling.</p><p>Harry is unapologetic. “Nests are integral to a stressed omega’s wellbeing. This is good for you. Aren’t you feeling better?”</p><p>“Fuck off,” says Louis, but it comes out as a contented sigh. He glances at Harry, who’s leaning back on his hands. It can’t be comfortable just sitting on the floor, even with the plush carpet. “Do you… do you want to come in?”</p><p>“Are you sure? I can leave you alone to rest, if you’d prefer it. Nests are private.”</p><p>“How do you know all this stuff? You’re an alpha.”</p><p>“Mum’s an omega? She only let Gemma and I into her nest when we were little. No chance now.”</p><p>Louis splays out an arm in welcome. “C’mon, love. Come and lie down. This won’t happen again, so take advantage.”</p><p>Harry’s almost glowing, he looks so happy, and he crawls into the nest with the utmost care not to disturb anything. Louis manhandles him into a position that satisfies his nest-related neuroses, and they lie together.</p><p>Louis doesn’t think he’s ever felt so safe in his life. He doesn’t know what to do with that.</p><p>“Louis, can I… may I hold you, please?”</p><p>Wordlessly, Louis moves closer, and Harry doesn’t wait before pulling him into his arms. Harry buries his face into Louis’ hair, and exhales. The touch triggers something very specific in Louis, something that goes directly to the omega part of his brain and lets him know that if he wants to, it’s safe for him to drop. As a compromise, he lets things go hazy, like swimming in a sea of clouds. Harry seems to sense it, because he holds on tighter, like he’s trying to anchor him.</p><p>“Listen, I know I may not be the first person you’d want to come to for this sort of thing, but. If you want to tell me about what upset you… I’d listen. You can tell me anything. I wouldn’t judge.”</p><p>Ignoring the mild sense of panic at the commitment inherent in those words, Louis reaches up a hand to pat Harry’s face. “I can’t tell you this, darling, but thank you. Maybe I’ll tell you something else, sometime.”</p><p>Harry snorts out a laugh. “Yeah? Like what?”</p><p>“I’ll tell you that I’m…” It’s a testament to how relaxed he is that he’s even letting these words escape his mouth. He sighs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad we’re friends, Harry.”</p><p>Because they are, now. They are. He just has to keep them from becoming more. Though perhaps he’s already failing.</p><p>Harry smiles into Louis’ hair. “How could I possibly take that the wrong way? That’s maybe the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”</p><p>“Don’t tell anyone I said that, either. I don’t want people getting ideas,” warns Louis.</p><p>“You haven’t heard the gossip? Everyone already has ideas.”</p><p>“Well, no need to encourage them.”</p><p>“Once the maids come in and see your nest in my rooms, the palace’ll be rioting,” says Harry.</p><p>“Okay, that’s enough. Go to sleep.”</p><p>“What? Why do I have to sleep?”</p><p>“Because apparently that’s the only way to shut you up.”</p><p>In response, Harry bites at the shell of Louis’ ear. In a curious turn of events, it leaves Louis feeling kind of aroused instead of irritated, as was likely intended. Though Harry can surely smell the change in scent, neither say anything. Eventually, Harry falls asleep, a warm weight at Louis’ back. It feels domestic. Comfortable. He untangles himself from Harry’s hold.</p><p>*</p><p>He leaves Harry sleeping in the nest, and feels reluctantly guilty. There’s an itch under his skin, some sort of uncertainty that leaves contentedness unattainable. Everything is too much. He’s never had to deal with this sort of stuff — infatuated princes, threatening letters, foreign palaces. With Zayn still missing, he finds himself in Ava’s rooms, watching her pour them both tea. After a moment of hesitation, she fetches a flask from a cabinet and spikes the cups, giving Louis a wink.</p><p>“Rum pairs best with black tea, I’ve found,” she says, and Louis laughs. He’s so glad he’s become friends with Ava, he doesn’t know what he would’ve done without someone else to talk to.</p><p>“Ava, can you keep a secret?” asks Louis as they nibble at biscuits. She’s just run through her day, spending extra time complaining about how her mother’s cat constantly sheds hair over her lovely dresses. Louis can’t concentrate though, mind on the intruder and the note.</p><p>Ava laughs. “Of course,” she says. “I wouldn’t be part of court if I couldn’t keep a secret.”</p><p>“Arguably, being part of court indicates that you’re fairly bad at keeping secrets,” returns Louis. “Everyone knows that lords and ladies are terrible gossips.”</p><p>She gasps exaggeratedly, lifting one delicate, gloved hand to cover her mouth. “How dare you,” she says, but she’s smirking a little, so Louis doesn’t feel bad. “Tell me your secret, dear Louis, and I’ll do my utmost to keep it.”</p><p>He takes a sip of his tea, and gathers himself. “Someone’s been leaving me… threatening notes,” he says, and this time Ava’s gasp is entirely real.</p><p>“Pardon?” she says, looking horrified. “Please elaborate.”</p><p>Louis sighs, and goes to run a hand through his hair before remembering how nicely Zayn styled it today. He rests his hands back in his lap. “Someone doesn’t want Prince Harry and I to be together,” he says, grimacing. “And sent a letter outlining the consequences of such an action.”</p><p>Ava looks furious, blue eyes narrowed and glinting, soft cheeks flushed. “Oh, he’s going too far with this.”</p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p>She huffs. “Lord Niall. I had a feeling he would pull something, but that is simply despicable.”</p><p>“What? What’re you talking about? What’s Niall got to do with anything?”</p><p>She rolls her eyes, and sips at her tea, lips pursed. “Lord Niall grew up with the prince,” she says. “It makes sense that he wants to get rid of the competition. Poor darling’s been in love with Prince Harry since he could walk. He’s a blue-eyed omega, he likely thought that the prophecy would be about him, and has since been given a rude shock.” She shakes her head, and leans forward. “Louis, you must report this. Lord Niall simply cannot get away with it — threatening the prince’s chosen, my word. I never would’ve thought.”</p><p>Louis frowns, and considers. The motivation makes complete sense, especially if Niall and Harry grew up together. Louis knows from his own relationship with Zayn that there’s a certain possession that comes with childhood friendship, a feeling that makes it difficult to tolerate interlopers. Louis assumes that this feeling would double if he were in love with Zayn too. However, he can’t quite see Niall as a threat.</p><p>“Do you think that Lord Niall means it?” asks Louis carefully. “Have you ever heard anything about him being violent?”</p><p>Ava thinks for a bit. “Not that I know of,” she says finally. “He’s always been refined, and he’s well-liked by the rest of the nobles. But, as I’m sure you know, love makes people do terrible things.” There’s a look in her eye as she says it, like she knows that better than anyone.</p><p>“I’ll just keep an eye out, then,” decides Louis.</p><p>Ava looks sceptical, but lets it go. They drink more tea and rum, and Louis thinks that he might miss Ava when he leaves.</p><p>*</p><p>That night, dinner is tense. Now aware of a potential source of the threat, Louis can’t stop glancing across the hall, where Niall’s laughing with his friends. He looks happy, buttoned up in a casually elegant suit that’s perfect for an omega lord.</p><p>Harry seems to be aware of Louis’ distraction, because he doesn’t try particularly hard to get Louis’ attention, apparently content to listen to everyone else’s chatter while eating. His presence is a balm to Louis’ anxiety, surprisingly enough.</p><p>Niall catches his eye next time he looks over, and gives him a cheeky wink. He mouths, “Alright?”</p><p>Louis scowls back, irritated by the lord’s nerve, and Niall looks mildly taken aback by the reaction, but shrugs and returns to his food. Louis can’t stop staring, wondering how such a boy could have the ability to threaten a fellow omega. He wonders if Niall would truly be willing to kill for love. He thinks that if Niall is that determined, Louis is more than happy to leave Harry to him.</p><p>“Has Niall done something to you?” murmurs Harry, and Louis jolts at the interruption.</p><p>“Don’t do that,” he exclaims, hand to his heart. Harry’s brows are raised.</p><p>“What?” he says. “Speak?”</p><p>“Interrupt someone who’s in deep thought,” snaps Louis, stabbing at a potato.</p><p>Harry shrugs. “So, what’s Niall done to you? You’re looking at him like you’d fancy seeing his head on a pike.”</p><p>Louis shoves some food into his mouth and takes his time chewing, trying to think of an excuse that won’t make Harry suspicious. He swallows, and dabs at his mouth with his napkin. He clears his throat.</p><p>“It’s a joke,” says Louis finally. “A pretend rivalry sort of thing. Don’t worry, your Highness, Niall’s a good lad. I like him well enough.”</p><p>Harry looks unconvinced, but doesn’t push it. “What’re you thinking about, then? You said you were in deep thought,” he elaborates when Louis looks confused.</p><p>“And what makes you think you’re entitled to my deepest thoughts, your Highness?” It’s sharper than intended, and Louis feels bad about it when he notices Harry’s wounded expression. Harry’s face goes blank when he realises that Louis’ seen, eyes distant. “Harry—”</p><p>Harry sets down his cutlery. “Excuse me, Prince Louis. I’m feeling suddenly ill.” His voice is colder than Louis’ ever heard it, and it’s shocking that it’s directed at Louis.</p><p>For some reason, though Louis’ goal has been to distance them, his success makes him feel sick to his stomach. He wonders if it’s what happened today — the warmth between them, the way Harry held him like he was something precious. The reassurance that Louis was safe with Harry, no matter what. Louis’ omega must’ve eaten that up, has probably made a connection with Harry’s alpha though Louis himself has no intention of letting this go any further.</p><p>Harry’s gone within moments, and Louis sits there for a few more moments before deciding that he has no interest in being here without Harry. He can feel people watching him, and he knows that they’re already talking about what made Harry run.</p><p>Not wanting to go back to his room unaccompanied, Louis decides to go to the temple. If Zayn were here, he’d be telling Louis that that’s a terrible decision, but Zayn isn’t here, and Louis needs answers.</p><p>The route is well-lit by lanterns, thankfully, so Louis doesn’t have to worry about stumbling about in the dark, though he will admit that the grounds are eerie when no one’s around. When he gets there, the temple’s empty of people, and he wonders if the seer’s even there.</p><p>“Seer Tariana?” he calls quietly as he moves up to the altar, where Seer Tariana has spread out her herbs and potions. His voice echoes eerily in the space, and it makes him shiver, having the thought that perhaps he should not have come here alone.</p><p>“Prince Louis, to what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>For the second time in one evening, Louis almost jumps out of his skin. Seer Tariana has emerged from a side door where her rooms must be. She’s in casual robes coloured like fire, a complement to her dark skin. Her hair is braided in tight, intricate coils on her head, emphasising the cut of her cheekbones and the slim line of her neck. She’s striking, as usual, and Louis prays that one day he will retain such sophistication even when dressed down.</p><p>“You scared me,” he says, and she grins, teeth bright in the candlelight as she takes her place behind the altar.</p><p>“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she repeats.</p><p>“I— I need to ask you something,” he says, and she nods him on. He steels himself, and asks, “Why did you do this? Why did you pronounce me to be Harry’s chosen when you know I don’t want it?”</p><p>Seer Tariana looks unsurprised by the question. She pauses for a moment and considers how to answer. “Prince Louis, I did nothing. I am simply the messenger. Your future has long since been decided by the goddess, and that future is at Prince Harry’s side.”</p><p>Louis’ already shaking his head. “I cannot believe that. I will not believe that. I deserve to have a choice about my future, goddess or not.”</p><p>Seer Tariana’s eyebrows rise. “You would choose unhappiness over a lifetime of joy with the prince? Simply because of your pride?”</p><p>A tight bundle of fury grows in Louis’ chest at her words, the idea that he doesn’t know what’s best for himself clawing at his insides. “I would choose freedom,” he grits out, “over the oppression and presumption of fate.”</p><p>“Watch yourself, your Highness,” she says, still smiling. “Some might consider that blasphemy.”</p><p>“Your goddess is not mine,” says Louis. “Why should I watch myself? Why should I continue this farce when I do not wish to? Seer Tariana, I have a family and a kingdom at home. My place is not here, as much as you all may wish for it to be.”</p><p>“I cannot speak with you if you approach with a closed mind,” she says, a note of sharp warning in her smooth voice. “Prince Louis, if you come here in the hopes that I would absolve you of your responsibility to your alpha, you may leave. I have nothing to say to you that will ease your heart. There are some things you must simply learn yourself.”</p><p>Louis swallows back his anger, and forces a smile. “Thank you for your time, Seer Tariana. Farewell.”</p><p>“I will see you soon, Prince Louis,” she says, but Louis doubts it. He doesn’t particularly want to see the woman responsible for mucking up his life ever again.</p><p>*</p><p>He’s hot when he wakes up in the morning. Hot, and deeply aroused. He’s barely conscious before he’s wrapping a hand around his dick, lazily getting himself off. The orgasm offers no real sense of release, and that’s what makes him realise what’s happening. Well, that and the sweat and the slick saturating the sheets.</p><p>Hurriedly reaching down to rub at his soaking hole, shuddering at how much his body is begging to be filled, he hollers, “Zayn!”</p><p>Zayn comes running. He takes one look at the situation, and says, “Fuck.”</p><p>Louis couldn’t agree more.</p><p>The thing is, heats are terrible to go through alone. While Louis <em>could</em>  technically do it, it’s not worth the constant, overwhelming ache as his body’s demands to be bred aren’t met. Usually he has a beta to help him. He thinks it was Luke that was going to help him out this time, if he were back home, but obviously that’s no longer possible. He doesn’t even have any toys here, so he needs someone’s help.</p><p>Zayn tentatively offers to help him through it, but that’s a bit of a worst-case scenario.</p><p>“Well, what about Prince Harry?” says Zayn, as if fucking Harry is not the exact opposite of what he should be doing.</p><p>“What about him?”</p><p>Zayn looks pointedly at where Louis’ holding Harry’s jacket to his nose, inner omega desperate for the scent of an alpha. “Don’t,” he says, and that’s that. “Do you want me to ask him to help you? Or would you prefer to do it yourself?”</p><p>“I’m not asking him. He’s an alpha, I don’t want to be knotted.”</p><p>“Louis, you <em>know</em> he wouldn’t knot you if you didn’t want it.”</p><p>Louis buries his face in the jacket because yes, he does know that. “Fine. Call Harry to my chambers. I’ll stay in my room, and we’ll speak through the door.”</p><p>Zayn looks quietly relieved. Louis doesn’t know whether to feel offended or not. “Okay. Good.”</p><p>*</p><p>Louis smells it as soon as Harry enters his chambers, and embarrassingly enough, the scent of alpha sends slick gushing from his arse. He hears Harry swear, listens to the pad of his footsteps on the carpet.</p><p>“Your Highness,” says Harry, “are you alright? You smell— fuck, you smell beautiful.”</p><p>Louis squirms, instincts begging him to touch himself now that an alpha’s near. “You want to do this, then? Help me through it?”</p><p>“It would be an honour, sweetheart,” says Harry, and it actually sounds like he means it.</p><p>“Listen, Harry,” says Louis, voice shaking a bit from how aroused he is, “you can’t knot me. If you do, I’ll stab you. I keep a dagger in my boot. I won’t hesitate.”</p><p>“I would never,” he says, solemn. Then, “Can I see the dagger?”</p><p>“That better not be a euphemism.”</p><p>Once Louis lets Harry in, Zayn scarpers, eager to get away before the sex starts. And Harry? Harry has to literally pause to take Louis in. Honestly, Louis can’t blame him — he was too hot for anything but his silk robe, so he’s standing in front of Harry, barer than he’s ever been. He’s too horny to feel vulnerable, which he’s grateful for.</p><p>Harry swipes a hand over his mouth, apparently needing a moment to get it together. His pupils are so dilated it’s a wonder he can even see. His nostrils keep flaring, like he just can’t stop himself from inhaling Louis’ scent.</p><p>“You’re so stunning, fuck,” he says, already reaching out to touch. “Can I kiss you?”</p><p>Louis thinks about it, barely even able to with the heat-haze in his mind. “Not on the mouth,” he says eventually, even though he kind of wants it, is starting to picture Harry’s lovely mouth on his.</p><p>“Alright, darling,” says Harry, running his big hands over Louis’ shoulders, his waist, his hips, and the pressure of the silk against Louis’ skin is tantalising, leaves him panting.</p><p>“Fuck, can you do something, please?” </p><p>“Fingers and mouth, yeah?” says Harry, and though Louis flinches a little at the knowledge that he won’t be getting any dick during this heat, he nods. Harry has big hands, at least.</p><p>“Fingers and mouth.”</p><p>Harry glances at the bed at Louis’ back, and his brow creases for a moment, before he smirks. “Is that my jacket? What’s that white stuff on it?”</p><p>If Louis weren’t so sweaty and horny, he’d probably slap him. “Just finger me, you prick.”</p><p>“It’s just demand after demand, with you,” says Harry, but then he pushes Louis onto the bed, and crawls on top of him, pushing up the hem of his robe with reverent hands. He doesn’t waste time before pressing kisses to the sensitive skin of Louis’ thighs, and just the softness of his mouth leaves Louis shaking, legs trying to close automatically. Harry holds them open.</p><p>“Please, please, please,” says Louis, not even sure what exactly he’s asking for, just that he needs something more to combat this terrible heat inside.</p><p>“Alright, honey, alright,” murmurs Harry, and without further delay, slides a finger inside Louis while taking his cock into the tight, wet heat of his mouth.</p><p>Louis moans, hips stuttering as he tries to decide whether to push into Harry’s mouth or down onto his finger. Harry makes the decision impossible when he sucks, hard, right as he presses two more fingers inside, sending sparks licking up Louis’ spine. It has Louis coming down Harry’s throat within seconds, and Harry sputters a little, not having expected it, but recovers quickly, suckling Louis through it until he has to push Harry’s head away, the suction too much. Louis’ practically seeing stars already, and his heat’s barely started.</p><p>But it’s still not quite enough. His body’s begging for a knot, and since he isn’t getting one, he’s going to need more than that to even partially satisfy the craving.</p><p>“Fingers, fingers,” he says, and Harry crooks them, trying to find Louis’ prostate. Louis squirms, whining. Harry reaches his other hand up to rub at Louis’ nipples through his robe, and Louis presses his chest into it, wanting more of that delicious ache. </p><p>“You’re so wet, sweetheart, smell gorgeous,” says Harry, before licking around where his fingers are stretching the rim of Louis’ arse, groaning a little at the taste. Louis grips Harry’s hair tightly, curls a little damp from sweat, and Harry seems to get the message, because he keeps his tongue where it is, and starts properly moving his fingers. The little slick sounds make everything seem ten times dirtier, and Louis revels in it, feeling a bit of <em>something</em> rising in his groin.</p><p>“Harder,” demands Louis, knocking Harry’s hand away to pinch at his nipples. Harry laughs a little, but does as he’s told, pumping his fingers in Louis’ arse while wrapping his free hand around Louis’ dick. Within moments he’s found Louis’ prostate, and then he gets it on every thrust, gaze concentrated on Louis’ face to make sure everything feels good, as if Louis isn’t crying out with every movement, desperately rocking down on his fingers.</p><p>It’s then, with Harry nailing his prostate and stroking his cock, that he comes, splattering his stomach with white while Harry practically milks it out of him. Louis relaxes back, shivering a little, still fiddling with his nipples. He probably has maybe half an hour until he needs another orgasm. Harry’s still watching him, mouth and chin shiny with slick. It’s sexy enough that Louis’ cock makes a weak attempt at hardening.</p><p>“Think I’ve matured yet, darling?”</p><p>Louis has just enough strength left in him to dart a hand out and twist Harry’s nipple hard enough that he yelps. “Don’t be a smug dickhead.”</p><p>*</p><p>Louis wakes up to Harry between his legs, fast asleep, using Louis’ belly as a pillow. He’s a warm, comforting weight, conveniently soothing Louis’ post-heat neediness, even though his curls are kind of ticklish. For a horrifying moment Louis wonders if Harry’s sleeping on a layer of Louis’ cum, but then he realises that he’s clean all over. A glance to the side reveals a wash-cloth and a small tub of water. The sheets, he realises, are clean too. Harry, or maybe Zayn, must’ve bathed him. Except that Louis can’t imagine that Harry would be willing to let Zayn near during Louis’ heat.</p><p>“Louis,” mumbles Harry, and Louis looks down, expecting to meet tired green eyes, but the prince is still comatose. It’s so cute, Louis can’t even hold back his smile.</p><p>Harry looks younger when he’s asleep; peaceful. It’s only once the lines on his face have relaxed that Louis even realises how tense Harry is usually. Without thinking, Louis reaches down to rub a gentle thumb over Harry’s forehead, and he lets out a little sigh that raises goose bumps on Louis’ stomach.</p><p>Inconveniently, Louis’ heart clenches. He removes his hand.</p><p>Harry wakes up slowly, starting with a scrunch of his nose, a few sniffles, a deep exhale. Then his eyelashes start fluttering, and one eye opens, like a dragon, as he surveys the situation. He yawns. Then, finally, he tilts his head up to check on Louis.</p><p>“Good morning,” he says, voice gravelly. He clears his throat. “Heat done?”</p><p>Louis nods. “Yeah, it’s— fuck, Harry, your <em>mouth</em>!”</p><p>Harry prods at his lips, which look painfully swollen. “It does hurt a bit,” he says thoughtfully.</p><p>“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry,” says Louis, running a finger over Harry’s mouth. Harry’s eyes flutter closed.</p><p>“Worth it,” he says. “Could probably die eating you out.”</p><p>“That’s a little extreme,” says Louis. “Here, let me call for some salve, or something. Fuck, I must’ve gotten carried away, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be silly,” says Harry, and then he crawls up until they’re face to face, and pulls Louis into his body. Skin on skin, like an omega needs. “C’mon, we’re going to cuddle, and then we’ll eat breakfast, and then we’ll cuddle more. Okay?”</p><p>It sounds heavenly. Louis nods. “Okay.” Then, because he needs to know: “Did you bathe me? After my heat?”</p><p>Harry looks mildly affronted. “Of course I did,” he says. “Wanted to take care of you.”</p><p>Louis conceals a smile. “Thank you, love.” And then, because he knows how much alphas love validation, “You took excellent care of me. You’re a good alpha.”</p><p>Harry hides his blush in Louis’ neck, but he can’t hide the contentment in his scent.</p><p>*</p><p>“Okay, so, Harry helped me through my heat.”</p><p>Ava spits out her tea. “What?”</p><p>“I know,” groans Louis. “There were no other options and I couldn’t go through it alone.”</p><p>“You two are getting close, then,” says Ava. Her tone of voice is hard to parse.</p><p>“I suppose,” says Louis. “I mean, you can’t really go through a heat with someone without becoming close. But, if I’m honest, we’ve been getting close for a while now. I can’t— I just really like him, you know? As a person. And I still hate this prophecy shite, but… I don’t know. I’m wondering…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Louis swipes a hand over his face, and sighs. “Should I stay? Would it be a waste to leave Harry behind? Should I— should I let him court me and see where it goes?”</p><p>It’s odd to say it aloud. Like a betrayal. Or relief.</p><p>“Oh, wow,” says Ava, and pauses to take a sip of her tea. “Those are some big steps, Louis. I mean, you just spent your heat together. The omega part of your brain is probably clinging to Harry, you know how needy we can get. Like, do you want Harry, or do you want a knot? Or, do you only want Harry because he helped you when you were vulnerable?”</p><p>“I liked Harry before my heat, though,” says Louis. “It’s just— I don’t want to be forced into this. I won’t. I want to be able to choose Harry, you know? I think I might’ve chosen him, if there wasn’t this prophecy.”</p><p>Ava’s expression gentles. “Dearest Louis, what happened to you?”</p><p>What happened to him? A lot, really. He was born an omega prince in a time that meant his every move was controlled. His decisions are constantly questioned, his actions watched. But mainly?</p><p>“My childhood best friend commanded me to bond with him,” says Louis, and no matter how many times he discusses it, it still makes him feel sick to his stomach. Ava gasps. “And I had to do it, because he was a fucking alpha, innit? I should’ve seen it. Every once in a while, we’d be spending time together, and he’d throw in a command to see if I’d do it. We both laughed it off, because I trusted him, y’know? I’d known him since birth.”</p><p>Ava’s clutching a hand to her mouth. “Oh, goddess, Louis, tell me you didn’t—”</p><p>“I would’ve. We would’ve been bonded, if my sister didn’t force her way into my chambers. She was furious, see, thought I’d stolen her favourite doll. She’d also discovered a recent fascination with lock-picking. When she saw him on me, she screamed so loudly that half the guards in the palace came running. My parents wanted him executed. I think I spent a week hiding in one of the guest rooms, crying.” He makes a face. “I don’t know if an experienced alpha’s ever tried to command you, but it’s like nothing else. You’re like a puppet, and you’re inside your head, and you’re shouting, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. An alpha could ask you to murder someone, and you’d do it. I trusted him.”</p><p>“Oh, Louis…”</p><p>“No, no pity, I just… you’re right. Perhaps I shouldn’t stay. Fate, honestly, who’re they kidding.” Louis stands, and Ava flinches from how abrupt the movement is. “I’m going to… I’m going to go. Um, thanks for listening, Ava. Sorry for… putting that on you.”</p><p>Ava tries to say something, probably some sort of reassurance, but Louis’ already gone.</p><p>*</p><p>Louis wakes up early the next morning, bored. He decides to seek out Harry, but there’s no response when he knocks on Harry’s door. He turns around to see Liam, flicking through some papers with a creased brow as he walks down the hall.</p><p>“Liam!” Louis calls out, and Liam looks up from his papers, smiling.</p><p>“Prince Louis,” he greets. “How are you?”</p><p>“Not bad, not bad,” says Louis. “Just looking for Harry, actually. Do you have any idea where he could’ve disappeared to?”</p><p>Liam frowns, and looks at his pocket watch. “Oh, he’ll be at the temple.”</p><p>“The temple? What for?”</p><p>“Likely speaking with the goddess, and probably Seer Tariana as well. He’s at the temple most mornings, actually, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before now.”</p><p>Louis makes a face. “I tend to sleep late, unfortunately. Whenever Harry and I meet it’s for afternoon tea, or lunch. Does Harry usually pray so often? Or has something happened?”</p><p>Liam’s smile gentles. “I imagine that if my chosen partner were as adamantly against a relationship as you, I’d be praying as well. I think the prince is simply looking for some guidance.”</p><p>Louis pauses, unused to such candour from Harry’s friend. “I see,” he says, and he can’t help but frown back at Liam, trying to understand why he would choose now to reveal something that sounds like a secret. Liam’s calm is unwavering. “Do you think Harry would want me to know that?”</p><p>Liam’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “Probably not,” he says. “But I thought it might benefit you to know.”</p><p>Louis’ frown deepens. If there’s one thing he hates, it’s manipulation. “Why?”</p><p>“Snow’s starting to melt in the village, apparently,” says Liam, and it sounds like a segue, but Louis knows exactly what he’s saying.</p><p>
  <em>Snow’s melting in the village. Soon the roads’ll be clear. Soon you’ll be leaving again, but Harry’s desperate for you to stay.</em>
</p><p>Louis gives him a tight smile. “Thanks for stopping, Liam, but I’d best be off.” Quite rudely, he doesn’t wait for a response before leaving Liam behind. He can feel Liam’s eyes on his back all the way down the corridor. </p><p>Louis decides that he doesn’t want to see Harry today after all, and detours to the kitchens to chat with the cooks and pilfer some pastries.</p><p>The kitchens are big and warm, with half the staff bustling around and shouting instructions while the others stir ginormous pots of stew or salt strips of meat or fold pastry dough and ice the little cakes that decorate stands for nobles’ afternoon tea. Though they seem a bit confused to find a wayward prince standing in the doorway, soon there’s a lovely beta named Sarah settling him down with an apple danish and a cup of tea. She gives him the polite warning that if he should disrupt their service, he will be escorted out, and he gives her his most charming smile and promises to be unobtrusive. She gives him a sceptical look but returns to icing cakes. He’s sitting on the opposite side of the bench to her, close enough that he could dip his fingers into the vat of clean white icing if he so chose. Instead, he sips at his tea.</p><p>It’s intriguing, witnessing this side of things, when he’s only ever seen the finished products. He knows, distantly, that a lot of work goes into running a palace, but as a royal he’s never really been allowed to see it. In his own home, they only let him visit the kitchens late at night once most of the staff have retired, and even then he’s only allowed to stay for the length of time it takes for him to finish his hot chocolate. He likes the way they all move, like this is all a routine they’ve completed thousands of times before, like they all know exactly what they’re doing. He admires that, as someone who rarely knows what he’s doing.</p><p>Noticing the intensity of his gaze, Sarah raises her eyebrows and asks, “Have you ever iced a cake before, your Highness?”</p><p>With mild confusion, he shakes his head. “No, I haven’t.”</p><p>“Would you like to?” </p><p>Louis’ eyes widen with glee, and Sarah laughs. She shows him how to use a piping bag, and teaches him how to swirl the icing to perfection, and warns him that the icing will melt if he doesn’t wait for the cakes to cool first. Soon enough, he has his own piping bag and a few cupcakes to practice on. The first one is messy, but by the third he’s improved. When Sarah praises his efforts, he ducks his head with embarrassment, unable to help his smile.</p><p>“Can I help with some more?” he asks, and if Sarah’s shocked that a prince wants to help in the kitchens, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she slides over the tray of cupcakes so that it’s between them both, and gestures for him to continue. It’s a simple, repetitive job, but fun because of the novelty. After a little while, Louis starts asking her questions.</p><p>“How long have you worked for the palace?”</p><p>“Oh, not long. A year, perhaps? I used to work for a bakery in the village, but then Prince Harry visited and wanted to know who decorated the cakes.” Sarah’s smiling as she speaks, obviously thinking of Harry fondly. “The owner told him it was me, thinking he hated them because he was frowning as he asked, but then the prince grinned and asked if I’d like to come and work at the palace, because he’s never seen such beautiful cakes before. Of course, I said yes.”</p><p>Louis’ smiling too. “That’s lovely,” he says. “You seem like you’re enjoying your time here.”</p><p>“Certainly!” says Sarah. “The royal family are very kind, and they like to encourage creativity in the kitchens. Prince Harry actually requested a cake in the form of his own face—”</p><p>“Are you spreading lies, Miss Sarah?”</p><p>Louis flinches at the sound of Harry’s voice, and spins in his seat. “What’re you doing here?”</p><p>“I heard you were looking for me, your Highness,” he says, standing tall in a pale blue outfit that complements his eyes wonderfully. Louis suddenly feels short of breath. “I can’t stay long, because apparently I have urgent duties to attend to, but I thought I’d pop in and say hello, maybe steal a pastry. What do you say, Miss Sarah?”</p><p>“I have no pastries for you, but perhaps you’d be interested in one of Louis’ cupcakes,” says Sarah with a wink at Louis. Louis resists the urge to hide his face.</p><p>Harry looks delighted. “What’s this, now?” He wraps an arm around Louis’ waist, and presses a kiss to his hair. It’s so domestic, Louis might lose his mind.</p><p>“Your prince has been helping me ice the cakes,” she says, “and he’s doing a splendid job.”</p><p>“Is that so? Please, your Highness, may I try one?”</p><p>Louis doesn’t really know what to do with a Harry who’s begging, so he nods, and hands one over. Harry gasps, turning the cupcake in his hands, before nodding.</p><p>“It’s perfect, your Highness. Truly exquisite. Have you considered transferring your skills to the kitchens?”</p><p>This time, Louis does hide his face in his hands. “Stop, you’re being embarrassing. Sorry, Miss Sarah, I don’t know who let him out in public.”</p><p>“Is that right, sweetheart?” says Harry, very gently placing the cupcake back on the bench. Before Louis can react, Harry starts tickling him, and Louis squeals, peals of laughter echoing throughout the kitchens. Sarah’s hiding a smile.</p><p>“Mercy, mercy,” gasps Louis when he can barely breathe through his hiccupping giggles.</p><p>Magnanimously, Harry releases him, and moves away. But not before Louis gets in a couple of nipple twists that leave Harry howling.</p><p>“You’re a monster,” he moans, clutching at his chest.</p><p>Louis pecks him on the cheek, and runs away, cackling.</p><p>When he returns to his rooms, eventually, there’s a cupcake sitting on his desk.</p><p>*</p><p>Louis’ returning from dinner, having waved off Ava’s company so that she could finish her meal. He’s warm and content and ready for a hot bath with plenty of bubbles. He hopes that Zayn has somehow read his mind and is already preparing one, but he doubts it. That’s alright, he supposes that he can wait.</p><p>When he turns the corner, the one thing he notices is the lack of guards. There are always at least two guards in any corridor commonly utilised by the royal family, but this corridor is completely empty of any people. It’s odd, but Louis brushes it off, figuring that the guards are on break or something.</p><p>Except then two men step out from behind a column, and begin to stroll towards Louis. They walk with the sort of confidence that Louis generally attributes to people who are sure of their strength — it’s the way guards walk, or kings, or rich nobles. It wouldn’t be alarming, except that both of them are wearing hooded robes that disguise any prominent features, apart from general size.</p><p>Louis thinks that this would be an excellent time for the guards to return to their posts. He’s smart enough to know that anything that’s about to happen will not end well for him. He’s already halfway down the hall, so he can’t turn around without it being suspicious. If he ducks into an empty room, he’s trapped. If he keeps going, he’s walking right into their hands.</p><p>“Prince Louis of Doncaster!” one of them calls out, and Louis stiffens, but puts a smile on his face.</p><p>“Good evening,” he says. His voice is calm and casual, though on the inside he’s shaking.</p><p>As the pair gets closer, Louis can scent them a little, his alarm only growing when he realises that one of them is an alpha. The other is a beta, which is a small mercy. Betas can’t control omegas in the same way that alphas can.</p><p>“Prince Louis, we were wondering if we could have a chat,” says the alpha. Louis can just see a white smile peeking out from beneath the hood.</p><p>Louis’ smile turns apologetic, and he says, “Apologies, my lord, I’m afraid I’m on my way to meet someone. However, if you contact my attendant, I’d be perfectly happy to converse with you another time.”</p><p>The alpha and the beta laugh, as if Louis has just told the most hilarious joke.</p><p>“Well, that won’t do, will it?” says the beta. He approaches Louis so fast that he barely sees it coming when he’s slammed into the wall, a hand on his chest preventing him from moving away. It doesn’t hurt much, but it’s certainly a warning.</p><p>“How dare you,” says Louis, scowling, as alarm rises in his gut. “Is this how you treat guests in your kingdom? Is this how you treat your prince’s intended?”</p><p>“Dearest Prince Louis, we simply want to give you some advice,” says the beta soothingly. His breath is minty on Louis’ face. “Leave Prince Harry alone, yes? I think that things will go very badly for you if you decide to maintain your relationship with our prince. Do you not agree that Prince Harry needs more than a foreign, disobedient omega?”</p><p>“<em>How dare you</em>,” hisses Louis, suddenly furious. He pushes the beta away, very aware that the beta has <em>allowed</em> him to do it. “I do not respond well to threats, especially not when it concerns my personal relationships. It is deeply inappropriate for you to even be speaking to me. If you’ll excuse me, I must leave.”</p><p>He storms past the beta, and for a moment he thinks he’ll actually get away before there’s a hand grasping the back of his neck, fingers pressing on his scent glands, an act that is unspeakably intimate, generally reserved for partners or family. It’s terrible and invasive and Louis can’t help but go limp, knees buckling under the weight of the forced submission and sending him to the ground. They laugh, a horrible sound that grates on his sensitive ears. Louis has never felt so helpless in his life, has made it his job to never be this helpless, and the knowledge of his weakness is maddening.</p><p>“That’s the way, lovely,” says the alpha, voice threatening enough that it sends Louis’ omega instincts off the rails. There are warning bells ringing in his head, but his fucking body is too caught up in the alpha’s touch to obey his instructions. “Now, listen here, darling, this is very important: you will leave the prince and return to your own kingdom within twenty-four hours. If you don’t, it won’t be you who suffers the consequences. It will be <em>him</em>. Do you understand?”</p><p>Louis groans, unable to formulate words while the alpha’s fingers are digging into his scent glands. The alpha takes his hand off Louis neck, but leaves another on Louis’ shoulder, grip tight enough to bruise. The threat is clear: try anything, and die.</p><p>It’s a bit easier to think, now that the alpha isn’t touching his neck, but his scent is still overwhelming and making Louis’ thoughts go foggy as his omega starts to realise that there’s an available alpha in the vicinity.</p><p>“That’s treason,” says Louis finally, panting a little from the effort of trying to speak so soon after such forced submission. His anger at this threat, at the idea that these bastards would try and hurt <em>his</em> alpha, is the only thing getting through his mind. The concept of Harry getting hurt, especially if it’s because of <em>Louis</em>, is enough to make his blood boil.</p><p>They all laugh again, and the alpha digs his fingers into Louis’ collarbone, hard enough to make Louis wince away, leaning back with one hand on the stone floor near his ankle.</p><p>“That wasn’t the right answer, Lovely Prince Louis,” says the alpha, the nickname sour on his tongue. His voice makes Louis want to shiver from fear, but he pushes those instincts down, determined not to freeze up. “Why not try again?”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll try again,” says Louis.</p><p>In one go, he swipes the dagger out of his boot and slashes at the alpha’s thighs, the sharp edge cutting through skin like butter. The alpha loosens his grip on Louis with a harsh yell that’s music to his ears. In seconds, Louis’ running. Even in these circumstances, he’s faster than any alpha, though the footsteps thudding behind him tell him that he’s being followed quite ardently.</p><p>He swerves around a corner, hoping that there are guards <em>somewhere</em>, but the corridors remain empty. Louis can’t fathom how these two brutes could have cleared the halls of all witnesses. He can’t hide, his scent is strong enough that the alpha would sniff him out in an instant. But he’s close to Harry’s rooms, and being with him is the only way that Louis could possibly feel safe right now.</p><p>“Omega, <em>stop</em>,” the alpha shouts from behind, trying to inject the power and influence of an alpha into his voice. He’s weak, though, unpractised and breathless from running, so it doesn’t hold. Louis hates him for even trying it.</p><p>The beta is closer, faster than his friend, but still a few lengths from Louis. It’s too close for comfort, though, and Louis can’t figure out how to shake him. They can’t exactly run around the castle all evening — something has to give.</p><p>In his defensive lessons, his teacher always told him to be aware of his surroundings, and to use anything possible to escape any danger. Louis regrets that he was never taught how to throw daggers, so he could take the beta and the alpha out instantly. He turns another corner, leaps up a set of stairs, and abruptly realises where in the castle he is.</p><p>He slips behind the tapestry of the nymphs and ducks into the tunnel that leads directly to the royal corridor, still sprinting even in the dark. He’s beginning to get a stitch in his side, his only exercise in Cheshire so far having come from short games of football. He thinks that soon he may have a heart attack from how fast his heart is beating, and the fierce energy keeping his instincts primed.</p><p>He doesn’t hear the two men follow him into the tunnel, but doesn’t slow down, though his footing is less sure in the darkness. Within moments he’s out the other side and in the royal corridor. He gets to Harry’s door, feeling distinctly like a hunted rabbit, and bangs on it with all his might.</p><p>If Harry’s out, Louis genuinely fears for his life, quite certain that the two men know where he is. But it turns out that Louis doesn’t have to worry, because Harry opens the door quickly, looking confused as to what the urgency is.</p><p>“Louis?” he says, but Louis’ too busy throwing himself into the room to respond, ushering Harry out of the way so that he can slam the door shut and lock it for good measure.</p><p>Imminent danger gone, Louis bends over, clutching at his stomach as he desperately tries to catch his breath, thinking that he might vomit from both the running and the stress of his altercation. His wheezing fills the room, and Harry’s hand rubbing his back makes him recoil at first before he realises what’s happening and relaxes into the gentle touch. There’s a roaring in his ears, and it’s only after a couple of minutes that he calms enough to realise that Harry’s asking him something.</p><p>“Louis, what’s wrong? What happened? Why were you running?” Harry’s asking, sounding frantic. He tries to lead Louis to the couch, but Louis resists.</p><p>“Water,” he rasps, and Harry dashes away immediately to fulfil the request.</p><p>Louis catches sight of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. He’s bright red and sweating, hair tousled in some places and sticking to his face in others. His neck feels tender from the alpha’s harsh touch, and when Louis pulls his damp shirt collar away from his skin, he realises that the alpha’s left red marks that are sure to develop into bruises. A rush of absolute hatred floods his veins at the realisation that he’s been <em>marked</em> by this brute when that should’ve been reserved only for his own alpha.</p><p>He flinches at the sound of glass breaking, and turns to find Harry staring at his neck, eyes wide and horrified. Louis hurriedly tugs his shirt back into place.</p><p>“Louis,” Harry breathes, ignoring the mess of glass and water on the ground as he steps forward. “Louis, who hurt you?”</p><p>It’s odd to hear Harry saying his name without the title, rare an occurrence as it is. Louis imagines that Harry must be absolutely stunned, to be using it now. </p><p>“It’s nothing,” Louis says, but Harry gives him a look of such betrayal that he finds he can’t continue with the lie. “Just— please, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it?” says Harry. He’s close enough now that Louis can scent him, a mixture of anger and confusion and panic, sour in Louis’ nose. Louis’ sure that his own distress smells similar. “You’re my omega, you come to my rooms looking like this, almost sick from fear, and you expect me to let it go? You’re holding a dagger, and… goddess, is that blood?”</p><p>Louis drops the dagger, having forgotten it was even in his hands. It hits the floor with a quiet clang. “I’m not your omega,” is all Louis says, before stumbling to the couch, digging his fingers into the soft fabric as a way of self-soothing. It doesn’t help. Harry doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead kneeling in front of Louis.</p><p>“Louis, <em>tell me what happened</em>, please let me help,” says Harry, more upset than Louis’ ever seen him. His eyes are big and rimmed with red, likely tears of frustration. “Someone <em>hurt</em> you, someone hurt you and you won’t even tell me what happened!” His hands are hovering over Louis’ thighs like he wants to touch but is unsure of his welcome. He ends up taking Louis’ hands in his, grip warm and sure as he looks into Louis’ eyes. Even when scared and furious, Harry is so gentle. “Louis, <em>please</em>. Please, darling, let me help you. Why were you running? Why are you so afraid?”</p><p>“<em>Harry</em>,” says Louis, voice low and distraught. </p><p>“I’m here, love.” </p><p>“I need to— Harry, I can’t stay here,” says Louis, and it’s surprisingly difficult to get out.</p><p>“Would you like me to escort you to your own rooms?” says Harry, and Louis can tell he’s purposely misunderstanding, giving Louis an out.</p><p>“You know what I mean,” whispers Louis.</p><p>“I’m afraid I don’t,” says Harry, “because you won’t <em>tell me</em>. What’s brought this on? Please, just explain what’s happened. Lou, I thought we were getting on, what’s changed?”</p><p>“I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t play these games, I need to go home.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, the passes are still blocked. There’s nothing I can do to change that. I can’t— goddess, I’d never begged for anything in my life before meeting you. Now I have to beg just for you to stay with me. I don’t know what to do, I don’t understand, am I not— can I ever be enough for you?”</p><p>It hurts, the way Harry’s voice cracks. </p><p>“Fuck, Harry, it’s— it’s not that simple. You’re so good, you’re going to be such a good partner for somebody, some day. But that someone isn’t me.” Louis could vomit from how his stomach twists at the thought of Harry with another person. With Niall. But he steels himself. “I’m going to return home, and maybe we can correspond, or something. But there will be no bonding while I’m here. I can’t do it, I won’t, not just because some prophecy says we should.”</p><p>“I don’t— Louis, we don’t have to bond! We never have to bond if you don’t want to, I just want to be with you!”</p><p>Louis keeps shaking his head. “Harry, I can’t have this conversation. Not right now, it’s too much.”</p><p>Harry doesn’t listen. “I thought we were past this. I thought you’d accepted— Louis, you’ve been <em>chosen</em>, we’re meant to be together! But even if we weren’t fated for this, we fit! We fit together so, so well! And I don’t believe that you don’t feel it, darling, I don’t. We’re drawn to each other.”</p><p>Louis kisses him. It’s mostly to shut him up, open-mouthed and sloppy, way too much for a first kiss. But Harry leans into it, mouth hot and wet and perfect, hands cupping Louis’ face like they’re lovers. His rings are cool on Louis’ cheeks.</p><p>“This isn’t over,” murmurs Harry when they break apart for breath, but Louis just kisses him again, pulling him close enough that it almost feels like they could become one. Their scents are filling the air, a constant circle of arousal, leaving them heady with it.</p><p>Their clothes hit the floor, and Harry pulls him into his bedchamber. The bed looks temptingly soft, covered in furs and pillows, the entire room coloured in shades of grey, cream, and lavender. It’s clear that the bedroom is Harry’s escape, even the artwork on the walls radiating calm.</p><p>They tumble onto the bed, still kissing, Harry breaking away only to press kisses to Louis’ jaw, neck, his collarbones, gentling where the other alpha left marks. The bed’s just as soft as it looks, and Louis sinks into it, sinks into Harry’s scent, which marks everything.</p><p>“Louis, what do you want? Tell me what you want,” says Harry, and there’s something like hope in his face, in the way he’s touching Louis, hands skating over Louis’ ribs like he’s something precious.</p><p>“Fuck me,” says Louis, suddenly desperate for something inside him, desperate for Harry.</p><p>Harry frowns. “You said you don’t want—”</p><p>“No knotting,” says Louis, “just fucking. Alright?”</p><p>Harry nods. “No knotting. I understand. You can trust me.”</p><p>Louis smiles, a little reluctantly. “I know I can.”</p><p>Things move quickly, Louis already wet from just the kissing. He isn’t interested in foreplay, just wants Harry in him already, and though Harry looks a little reluctant to stop mouthing at his skin, he still obeys Louis’ instructions and is ready at Louis’ entrance in no time.</p><p>“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” says Harry, before slowly pushing in. </p><p>The stretch is almost obscene, different to anything Louis’ ever experienced. Betas aren’t the same, and Harry’s smirk says he knows it.</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” says Louis, wincing away a little bit, but Harry holds his hips in place, grip tight, still inching in, slick smoothing the way.</p><p>“You okay?” asks Harry, panting. “Fuck, you’re tight.”</p><p>“You’re just too fucking big,” says Louis, and he intends it as an insult, but it just makes Harry grin.</p><p>“Thought you could take it,” he says, and the call-back to that meeting, when Louis was doing his absolute best to push Harry away, is bittersweet.</p><p>“Kiss me,” says Louis.</p><p>Harry does, and it’s a nice distraction while Louis adjusts, squeezing experimentally around the cock in his arse. Harry moans into his mouth, and bites at Louis’ lip, grinding into him, and Louis gasps at the feeling, something intense, something thrilling. He wants more of it.</p><p>“There, there, do that,” he says, frantic, and Harry obeys, brow creasing as he focuses on grinding his hips in that one spot, and the sensation makes Louis shiver with pleasure. Harry sucks at one of Louis’ nipples, and Louis pushes his chest up into it. “More, more, more.”</p><p>Harry starts thrusting, properly, but still aiming for that spot. Louis clutches at Harry’s arms, barely able to do anything but lie back and take it. It feels <em>so</em> good, is the thing, Harry’s cock filling him better than anything else he’s ever taken.</p><p>“Faster, faster,” says Louis, but Harry ignores him.</p><p>“Please, please, please,” he murmurs instead, pressing kisses to Louis’ face as his thrusts slow. Louis moans, hooking his ankles around Harry’s bum to get him to speed up again, but Harry refuses. The tantalising slide of his cock against Louis’ walls is making Louis desperate, sure that if Harry just speeds up a little he’ll come in moments. </p><p>“Faster, please, I’m so close!”</p><p>“You can come if you promise me something,” says Harry, and Louis clenches around his cock.</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>“Promise you won’t leave. Stay until morning, at least.”</p><p>“Please, Harry, don’t do this,” says Louis, turning his face away so that Harry can’t see the way his lower lip trembles. “Can’t we just have this? Let us have this, yeah? We’re here now, together. That’s what matters.”</p><p>There’s a pause. When Louis looks back, Harry’s frowning, eyes anguished. Louis raises a hand to cup his jaw, thumb stroking at Harry’s cheekbone.</p><p>“Darling, it’s alright,” soothes Louis. “C’mon, are you fucking me or not?”</p><p>Harry’s frown deepens, and he stops moving altogether. He eases out of Louis, ignoring Louis’ whine at the emptiness, and then he flips him over, making Louis’ head spin with the suddenness of it.</p><p>“What—” Louis starts, but then Harry lands a hard smack to his arse and he can’t help but cry out, unsure if he wants to move away from the sensation or into it.</p><p>“Hands and knees, my prince,” says Harry, voice firm. Louis does as he says, and as soon as he’s in position, Harry’s pulling at his cheeks, leaving his wet hole exposed to the cool air. Harry just stares, taking it all in. Louis shuts his eyes, head hanging between his shoulders as he goes hot with embarrassment.</p><p>“Please, Harry,” he says quietly, and Harry runs a soothing hand over the curve of his hip.</p><p>“My darling boy,” says Harry, and rubs his thumb over Louis’ fluttering rim in slow, circular motions. Louis shifts back into the touch, desperate for Harry to get back inside him, and thank goodness Harry chooses that moment to remove his fingers and guide himself back into Louis, his cock a hot, blunt pressure that splits Louis open until he’s quivering.</p><p>Harry takes a second to build up the speed, testing different angles until he’s found Louis’ spot, hitting it with every thrust and leaving Louis keening with the pleasure of it. Louis presses his mouth into his bicep in an attempt to muffle his involuntary noises, but Harry seems to take that as a challenge. He slows again, moving his hips in a sensual grind that manages to be both too much and not enough. It feels like Harry’s everywhere, inside him, around him, a never-ending pleasure that leaves Louis begging for release.</p><p>“What do you want, sweetheart?” coos Harry. He reaches around to tug and twist at one of Louis’ nipples, a sparking pain-pleasure that goes straight to Louis’ cock.</p><p>“Fuck, Harry, want you,” says Louis, and that must be what Harry wants to hear, because he starts pounding into Louis, slick sounds accompanying each movement. Louis just lets himself be used, groaning as Harry reaches one hand around to jerk Louis’ off.</p><p>“Harry, Harry, <em>Harry</em>, I’m going to—” is all Louis can get out before he’s coming, coating Harry’s hand with white. Harry lets out a long groan as Louis clenches around him, leaning down to capture Louis’ lips in a hard kiss that leaves Louis’ head spinning. Still, Harry doesn’t stop touching him, preventing him from going soft even as Louis whines and half-heartedly wriggles, cock too sensitive for Harry’s strokes to be truly pleasurable.</p><p>“I can’t, I can’t, don’t—” sobs Louis, but Harry hushes him and presses a kiss to Louis’ hair, before leaning in close.</p><p>“You can,” says Harry, breath hot against Louis’ neck. “You’re going to come until I say stop. Yes?”</p><p>Louis lets out another sob, and at the sound Harry pulls Louis off his hands and up against him, back to chest, cock driving even deeper. Louis rests his head back on Harry’s shoulder, mouth open in a pant, and then Harry’s capturing Louis’ mouth in a sloppy, open kiss. The closeness is both overwhelming and deeply comforting, nothing soothing Louis’ omega more than knowing his alpha is right there with him.</p><p>When Harry pulls away from the kiss, he wraps one arm around Louis’ chest and the other around his hips, and sets a punishing pace that forces <em>ah ah ah</em>’s from Louis’ mouth. With each thrust, Louis’ cock brushes against the soft skin of Harry’s arm, and that barely-there touch along with the way Harry’s palm rubs over Louis’ sensitive chest is enough to have Louis coming a second time, thighs shaking from the force of that white-hot pleasure.</p><p>Harry’s moaning too, probably from how Louis’ tight hole is pulsating around him, and Louis feels vaguely satisfied at having pleased his alpha. If Harry’s grip weren’t so secure, Louis would be slumping forward, limbs loose after two orgasms. He barely has it in him to hold his head up, thoughts slow and incoherent. At least Harry has the wherewithal to stop moving, probably realising that anything more will be less pleasure and more pain for Louis right now.</p><p>“One more,” says Harry, and the confidence with which he says it would be irritating if Louis weren’t so knackered.</p><p>“Harry, <em>please</em>,” groans Louis, tears sparking in his eyes, wondering if his cock is even capable of getting hard for another. Harry answers that question by trailing his fingers over Louis’ soft, wet dick, which immediately starts to harden again. It feels like too much, and this time Louis makes an active effort to squirm away, hampered by the fact that Harry hasn’t yet pulled out.</p><p>“I won’t fuck you,” murmurs Harry, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ cheek before burying his nose in Louis’ scent gland, a satisfied rumble erupting in his chest. Louis shivers from the intimacy of it, and Harry fills the room with the scent of his contentment in response.</p><p>“What will you do?” asks Louis, barely a whisper.</p><p>Harry raises his head, resting his nose against Louis’ cheek as he speaks. “Lick you out. Maybe finger you. Want me to get my mouth on you? I’ll be gentle.”</p><p>“I know you will,” says Louis. He considers the state of things, how filthy he is already, the slick that’s still leaking down his thighs and the cum splattered all over his belly. Harry waits, ever patient. “Fuck, okay. Get your mouth on me.”</p><p>He can feel Harry smile against his skin. “Alright, darling. Down you get.” </p><p>They manoeuvre themselves until Louis’ back on his hands and knees, Harry spreading him open, but then a sudden pang of unfamiliar neediness hits, and he’s desperate to see Harry’s face.</p><p>“Wait, wait,” says Louis, and Harry moves back quickly, leaving one hand on Louis’ back as an anchor.</p><p>“What—”</p><p>“Want to see your face,” mumbles Louis, feeling silly at the childish request, but Harry seems to think nothing of it. Immediately, he’s helping Louis turn over, making sure he’s settled on his back, knees bent and spread wide open. Louis relaxes once he can see the concerned green of Harry’s eyes, and offers back a weak smile.</p><p>Harry crawls up Louis’ body to kiss him, a reminder that Harry’s there, that they’re together, and Louis feels a lump rising in his throat at the thought that soon they’ll no longer be doing this. Harry cradles Louis’ face like he’s the most precious thing on earth, thumbs stroking Louis’ cheekbones until Louis nods for him to continue.</p><p>On his way back down, Harry takes a moment to mouth at Louis’ sensitive nipples, smirking when Louis can’t decide whether to push into the sensation or pull away. He continues down, sucking marks onto Louis’ ribs and admiring the way Louis’ belly looks when he’s covered in cum. Louis writhes when Harry finally moves on to suckle softly at the head of his soft cock, slowly coaxing him into hardness. Harry’s face turns smug at Louis’ desperate, breathy pants, and Louis digs a toe into the alpha’s ribs, just to remind him who’s in charge.</p><p>“Hurry up,” says Louis.</p><p>“Don’t rush me,” says Harry, but then he presses an open-mouthed kiss to Louis’ dripping hole, so Louis figures he isn’t too annoyed.</p><p>True to his word, Harry is gentle. It’s soothing, actually, the soft laps of his tongue helping to suppress the ache in Louis’ arse from Harry’s cock.</p><p>“S’that nice, petal?” asks Harry, as if the way Louis’ moaning isn’t obvious enough.</p><p>“So nice,” says Louis, rocking lightly into Harry’s mouth. Harry holds his hips in place, and works his tongue into Louis’ hole, tonguing at Louis’ sloppy insides. Louis comes like that, a pathetic little dribble that leaves him shuddering. Harry licks him through it, until Louis’ forced to push his face away, the sensation too much after three orgasms. His entire body feels sensitive, like a live wire.</p><p>“Good boy, sweetheart, you did so well,” says Harry, leaving a final kiss on Louis’ thigh before he straightens up. His cock is an angry red, knot threatening to pop at the base, pre-cum dripping from the tip. Louis can hardly believe he’s waited this long to come. “Can I come on you, love?”</p><p>Louis nods rapidly, suddenly craving Harry’s cum, craving something that marks him as Harry’s omega. He doesn’t analyse the feeling.</p><p>Harry fists his cock, and Louis can’t keep his eyes off it. Harry’s panting, gaze running over Louis pliant body as he strokes himself. Louis reaches up to rub at the head, revelling in the silky feel, and Harry groans. As he starts coming, jets of white shooting onto Louis’ belly, he quickly wraps his hand around his growing knot and squeezes, working it until his load has been fully emptied onto Louis, hot and sticky and just what Louis needs.</p><p>Harry’s eyes are intense as he rubs their mixed cum into Louis’ skin. It’s something animal, something both soothing and possessive. He pushes his fingers into Louis’ mouth, and Louis sucks. They taste salty, bitter, and it’s grounding. Harry watches with something like awe.</p><p>“Gorgeous boy,” he murmurs. “My omega. Lovely Louis.”</p><p>“Yours,” mumbles Louis, feeling hazy. “Yours.”</p><p>*</p><p>Louis sneaks out about half an hour after Harry collapses beside him. It takes a bit of time to extricate himself from Harry’s hold, it’s so tight, but he manages, somehow. It feels terrible to leave him, something inside him railing against the decision, but he needs to speak to someone. He needs reassurance that he’s doing the right thing by leaving.</p><p>He picks up his dagger on the way out, and stops off in his room to wipe all the cum off himself. He can’t help but spend time looking at his reflection in the mirror, thumbing over the bruises Harry left on his body. There’s a particularly large one at the base of his neck, right beside where an alpha would leave a mating mark, and when he presses down, it aches.</p><p>“Zayn? Are you around?” he calls out, but there’s no response. He sighs. Of course. The one time he actually desperately needs his best friend, he isn’t there.</p><p>The next best thing is Ava, who opens the door after a few knocks, in spite of it being far past an appropriate time for visitors. She’s in a robe, face clean of any makeup, and she looks tired, and stressed.</p><p>“Louis? What— oh, goodness, you smell like Harry.” </p><p>His smile is self-deprecating. “It’s a long story, love.”</p><p>“Dearest, oh, come, sit and have some tea,” says Ava, hands fluttering as she deliberates whether to hug him or not. She apparently decides against it, and simply ushers him to his usual armchair. She rushes around, getting everything together. Somehow, she already has boiled water.</p><p>“Couldn’t you sleep?” he asks.</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>He gestures to the teapot. “You already have water boiled. I drink tea when I can’t sleep.”</p><p>“Oh! Oh, yes. One of those nights, I think,” she says. “Now, milk, no sugar, yes?”</p><p>“Yes, thank you,” says Louis, leaning into his armchair and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. He focuses on the sound of Ava stirring his tea, the clink of the spoon against porcelain, the tap tap tap before she rests the spoon on the saucer.</p><p>“Here, darling, drink up. Only tea can help with problems such as yours.”</p><p>Louis laughs. “You haven’t even heard them, yet.”</p><p>“Tell me, then.”</p><p>He takes a big sip of his tea, and begins. Ava watches as he speaks, but it’s more attentive than her usual stare, like she’s waiting for something. He ignores it.</p><p>“Are you feeling alright, Louis? You sound off.”</p><p>Listening to himself, he does sound off. His speech is slurring, tongue thick in his mouth, and he’s finding it harder to grasp his thoughts. Panic spikes in his gut, but it simultaneously feels distant. Everything is muffled, kind of like being drunk, but maybe worse.</p><p>“Maybe you should lie down,” says Ava, brow creased.</p><p>It echoes terribly.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe you should lie down.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe you should lie down.</em>
</p><p><em>Maybe you should</em>—</p><p>*</p><p>It takes him a few moments to realise where he is, when he wakes up. He’s groggy, candlelight too much for his eyes. It’s the smell of burnt sage that starts cluing him in. Then he sees the tapestries, the purple carpet, and he knows. He’s in the temple.</p><p>But why? Forcing his eyes open a little more, he realises that someone’s up at the altar, a woman. Not Seer Tariana, though. The blonde hair catching the light makes him realise that it’s Ava. Except they were just in her chambers. Why did they move? When did they move?</p><p>“Ava?” says Louis, frowning at the slur in his voice. He tries to straighten up, but when he tries to move he realises that his hands and legs have been tied, rope chafing at his wrists and ankles. “What…?”</p><p>“Excellent, you’re awake,” says Ava, voice echoing. She’s bustling around at the front of the temple, setting up bottles of bright liquids on the altar and lighting more candles. Her face is shadowed and harsh, and her deep purple robes stroke the floor as she walks. “I thought you would be out for a little longer, but I can work with this, I suppose.”</p><p>“What?” says Louis again, struggling to put the pieces together. He tests his restraints, and finds that there’s no give whatsoever. Clearly Lady Ava is excellent at tying knots, though he can’t imagine what use a noblewoman would have for such a skill. “Is this a joke? What’re you doing with Seer Tariana’s things?”</p><p>“No need to exert yourself, your Highness. Everything’s going to be fine.” Her voice is as low and soothing as ever, but with an edge of impatience.</p><p>“What?” Louis’ head feels like it’s been cracked in half and his brain’s leaking out. “Wait— you drugged me! Why would you drug me? I thought we were friends!”</p><p>Ava’s still meddling with Tariana’s potions, her back turned pointedly to Louis. “Dearest Louis, please stop asking stupid questions. We are not and will never be <em>friends</em>. Not while you’re still a threat to my future.”</p><p>“But— Niall?”</p><p>“Has nothing to do with any of this,” says Ava airily. “He’s just a convenient scapegoat.”</p><p>“I don’t understand. What is all this?”</p><p>“Let me tell you a story, dearest, just sit back and relax.” Unlikely. “See, I was once an incredible dancer. The best in the kingdom. So good, in fact, that the King and Queen offered me a title, and invited my family and I to stay at the palace. Then I injured myself. So badly that I was told I would never dance again, not like I could. Graciously, the King and Queen allowed my family and I to stay at the palace permanently, even though I technically had nothing to offer. As I was recovering, someone would visit me. Once a week, he’d sit with me, and we’d talk and laugh, like proper friends.”</p><p>Louis thinks that maybe, he can see where this is going.</p><p>“It was the prince, see? Prince Harry. He’s a charming lad. I thought we were building something. It was tentative, but I could see it. And when I heard the prophecy, I thought, <em>oh. It must be me. An omega with blue eyes? All of my suffering, it was for this</em>. Except… apparently it wasn’t. Because Harry said his chosen was you.”</p><p>His fear is sour in his nose, panic sharpening his senses. “I don’t understand, I—”</p><p>Ava slams a potion onto the altar, and spins to face him. “You didn’t even want him,” she hisses, eyes glowing with rage, face twisted. “I would’ve <em>killed</em> for him and you <em>didn’t even want him</em>.”</p><p>Louis swallows, starting to realise that this situation is escalating too rapidly. He doesn’t know what to say, certain that anything he comes up with will only make this all worse. Then again, he’s not quite sure <em>how</em> this situation can get any worse.</p><p>Ava closes her eyes while taking a deep breath, and seems to centre herself. She opens her eyes.</p><p>“And that would’ve been fine, if you just stayed away like you planned. When I heard the maids talking about the nest in the prince’s rooms, I knew things had gone too far. And then you spent your heat with him…” she clenches a fist so tightly he’s surprised the vial in her hand doesn’t break. “That’s alright, though,” she says, voice steady and sweet. “The goddess will deal with you soon.”</p><p>Unable to keep quiet, he says, “What do you mean?” Ava ignores him, and starts dragging chalk across the stone floor. The sickening scrape grates on his ears. “Ava, <em>what do you mean</em>?”</p><p>“Well, once I complete this ritual, you will be recalled to the earth,” says Ava. “As the great goddess will realise that you are, in fact, unworthy of the prince. Thus, you will die.”</p><p>“Ava,” says Louis. “<em>What the fuck</em>? I promise, you absolutely don’t need to kill me.”</p><p>“Oh?” says Ava. “So you’ll leave this kingdom and never return? Cease all contact with Prince Harry? Never talk about this again?”</p><p>Louis pauses. “Well,” he says.</p><p>Ava snorts. “That’s what I thought. If I were to release you, the prince would never give up on you. He’d hold a torch for you for the rest of his life. If you were to die, then you wouldn’t be the one who got away. You would simply be gone, and the prince would have no choice but to move on. Luckily, I would be at his side, wiping away his tears and proving he had it wrong — the prophecy was never about you, but about me. Then we’d live happily ever after, so on and so forth.”</p><p>Her delusion is alarming. Even she must know that Harry wouldn’t move on so quickly. Louis’ been resisting him at every turn, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t both aware that there’s <em>something</em> between them, ready and waiting to be built upon. Louis thinks it’s fairly likely that Harry wouldn’t even consider marrying someone else after losing Louis, as arrogant as that sounds.</p><p>“And what would you do if Harry didn’t cooperate?” asks Louis carefully, hoping that this isn’t the question that speeds up his death.</p><p>Ava’s eyes go distant. “There are potions,” she murmurs, “that would encourage his cooperation.”</p><p>His horror at the idea is tangible, the temple filling with the scent of rotten apples as he pictures a blank-eyed Harry obediently pressing a kiss to a smiling Ava’s cheek during their wedding feast. A blank-eyed Harry smiling without dimples as he presents the kingdom with his and Ava’s child. A blank-eyed Harry dying, freedom stolen from him by a vindictive noblewoman.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry too much about it, dear,” soothes Ava. “I would think you’d be more concerned about your own fate. It’s a lot less promising than the prince’s.”</p><p>“Where’s Seer Tariana?” asks Louis, praying that she’s away from the temple for some reason, maybe visiting a friend at the palace, for once, but all hope is lost when Ava gestures at something behind him.</p><p>“She became a problem,” she says. “I sorted it.”</p><p>He has to crane his neck, but he can just see Tariana’s body on the ground, poking out from a row of pews, dark hair cascading across the marble, face slack.</p><p>“Is she dead?” His voice quivers against his will.</p><p>“No, no, no reason to kill Seer Tariana, she didn’t see my face. I just knocked her unconscious. She’ll be fine, probably. Now, stop talking. I need to concentrate.”</p><p>Louis doesn’t know what to do. He wishes desperately for Harry to show up, to wake, realise Louis’ gone, and go searching. But this isn’t the first time Louis’ left Harry sleeping. Perhaps Harry’ll think that Louis finally did it— he finally ran away. The thought leaves Louis’ chest aching. He looks up at the ceiling, and closes his eyes. It’ll probably be useless, but it’s worth a try.</p><p>
  <em>Dearest Goddess, I have not been respectful of you, but fuck, please help me. I don’t know what to do. If you have any power, tell me how to get out of this. Thank you.</em>
</p><p>He feels a bit ridiculous, but decides to commit. He repeats the prayer over and over, until his thoughts are interrupted by a shriek of rage. His eyes jolt open, and he sees Ava scowling at her row of things for the ritual.</p><p>“There’s a candle missing,” she growls. “And there must be exactly twelve candles.” She points at Louis. “You, stay there. I won’t be long. Don’t even think of moving, or you die.”</p><p>Louis doesn’t think that’s much of a threat, if she’s planning on killing him anyway, but nods solemnly. She nods back, and leaves. Seconds later, someone speaks.</p><p>“Prince Louis,” says Seer Tariana, voice strained. “Lovely to see you again.”</p><p>“Oh, thank the goddess,” says Louis on an exhale, ready to faint from relief. “Are you alright, love?”</p><p>“Not really, but that’s okay, because you’re going to help me,” she says. From the corner of his eye, he watches her crawl towards him, face twisted into a grimace as her robes catch around her limbs. Her eyes look unfocused. </p><p>The longer it takes her to get to him, the more paranoid he grows, jumping at the slightest of sounds. If Ava returns during this, they’re fucked.</p><p>“How?”</p><p>She reaches him, and feels around until she finds the dagger in his boot. With that, she slowly starts cutting through the ropes. Every second has his heart palpitating, but Tariana seems relatively unconcerned.</p><p>“You will go through the passage. Turn right at the fork, it’ll lead you back to the palace. If you get it wrong, don’t worry, the other passage leads into town. From there, Prince Harry will take care of things.”</p><p>“Tariana, <em>which passage</em>?”</p><p>“I’m back,” calls out Ava, and Tariana drops to the floor, dagger hidden beneath her body, half covered by a pew. But she’s still a few rows forward from where she was. Louis freezes. He can only hope that Ava is too frantic to be observant. Upon entry, she pauses, head cocked, purple candle in hand. Her eyes flick over the scene. “Did you move?”</p><p>“How could I move when you’ve tied me up?”</p><p>She purses her lips, but returns to the altar, back facing Louis and Tariana. Tariana slowly passes the dagger to Louis, whose hands are now free. He starts working on the ties at his ankles, keeping half an eye on Ava. Tariana, on the other hand, disappears. Inwardly, Louis panics, desperately hoping that Tariana doesn’t do something stupid.</p><p>“Nearly done, dear Louis,” says Ava over her shoulder, and Louis flinches so hard he almost drops the dagger.</p><p>“Lucky me,” he says. Ava graces him with a laugh.</p><p>He frees his ankles. Tariana appears at the altar, looking determined. Ava turns, brow creasing with confusion at the presence beside her.</p><p>Everything happens quickly, after that.</p><p>Tariana thwacks Ava around the head with a candlestick holder, so hard that Louis cringes at the sick crack of impact. Tariana, strength spent, drops to the floor, panting. And Louis? Louis runs. He picks a passage at random, one behind a tapestry of a starry sky, and is presented with a door. He tries the handle. It’s locked. Heart pounding in his ears, he thinks of the nursery rhyme, the one Tariana was humming when she told him about the passage, and knocks out a tentative pattern.</p><p>The door opens.</p><p>All he notices in the passageway is the cold, and the damp. Vaguely, he hears screeching from behind him, but he doesn’t stop. He turns right at the fork, slips on the dirt lining the passage, crashes into the wall. He allows himself a few moments to get it together, and then runs, and runs, and runs, ignoring the stitch stinging his side, the sharp ache of breath in his throat. Everything is white noise, except for his footsteps on the ground. And that means he doesn’t realise the presence in the passage, until it’s too late.</p><p>A hand yanks at his shirt, slowing him, and he yelps, turning to push at whoever it is. And of <em>course</em> it’s Ava, bright red from exertion, blood trickling from where the edge of the candlestick’s base caught her forehead.</p><p>“I didn’t come this far,” she says, “for a seer to ruin me.”</p><p>“Too fucking bad,” says Louis, and slashes his dagger at the hand holding him, catching skin. She’s too dazed from her injury to avoid it, releasing him with a howl of pain. He bolts.</p><p>Somehow, he makes it to the palace. But she’s right behind him. He doesn’t know where in the palace he is, maybe somewhere near the kitchens, but he shouts for help as loudly as he can before Ava gets a hand around his mouth, sticky with blood, wrapping her other arm around his neck, and squeezing.</p><p>“You little fucking bastard,” she hisses, tightening her hold, and he chokes, clawing at her wrist, vision blurring.</p><p>“Hey! Release the prince!” someone shouts.</p><p>Louis blacks out.</p><p>*</p><p>When Louis wakes up, he decides that he’s sick of this blacking-out nonsense. However, this time, at least, he’s somewhere he recognises. He’s in his own bed, in his chambers, tucked very thoroughly under the covers. He takes inventory: his head is aching, but not unbearably, and as are his muscles (though that’s likely to be more from the sex than from the attempted murder). He’s thirsty, and hungry. And exhausted. Light is streaming into the room from the window, a soft midday sun. For a second, Louis watches the snow fall.</p><p>A little snore alerts him to Harry’s presence in the armchair beside his bed. At the end of the bed, napping, is Zayn.</p><p>“Um,” says Louis, unsure how to announce his waking status, but that’s all it takes for Harry to open his eyes. They watch each other, for a moment, before Harry’s face crumples.</p><p>“Louis,” he says, and tumbles forward to envelop Louis in his arms, sobs erupting from deep in his chest. Louis, somewhat alarmed, strokes a hand over his back, shushing him gently like he does for his sisters when they have nightmares.</p><p>“It’s okay, love,” says Louis, bottom lip quivering. “I’m okay.”</p><p>Harry pulls back, hiccupping a little. “Do you feel any pain anywhere? Should I fetch the healer?”</p><p>“I just feel achy,” says Louis. “Nothing unbearable.”</p><p>Harry’s expression suggests that he’d quite like to call the healer to deal with that. Louis brushes a tear away from Harry’s cheek with his thumb, and Harry catches his hand, and holds it like it’s a lifeline.</p><p>“So, we know who was behind the letters,” says Zayn, who’s watching them both with glossy eyes.</p><p>“I thought I’d lost you,” says Harry. “I could feel your panic, right here.” He presses a hand to Louis’ heart, and looks at him, green eyes wet and bloodshot.</p><p>“You could feel me?”</p><p>Harry swipes a hand over his face like he barely knows what to say. “We’re fucking chosen, you prat. Could you <em>please</em> just accept it.”</p><p>Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever accept that they’re ‘chosen’. But he accepts that they have something.</p><p>“Who found me? Someone came, at the end. I thought I was going to… who was it?”</p><p>Harry sniffles. “It was Sarah. She was preparing the bread for this morning, and she heard you shouting. You were near the kitchens. She saved your life.”</p><p>“Wrestled you out of Ava’s arms, and knocked her out with a fucking rolling pin, can you believe?” says Zayn, sounding choked up.</p><p>Louis can believe it. Sarah seems fierce.</p><p>“She was in love with you, you know,” says Louis. “Ava.”</p><p>Harry shakes his head, and settles himself beside Louis, cradling him carefully against his chest. Louis sinks into the embrace, and turns his nose into Harry’s neck, where his scent is strongest. </p><p>“That wasn’t love,” he says. “If she truly loved me, she wouldn’t have tried to hurt you.”</p><p>Another thought occurs to Louis. “Tariana! Is she alright? Fuck, I just— I left her there.”</p><p>Harry shakes his head again, more vehement. “No, don’t think of it like that. The temple is where a seer’s power is strongest, where they have the most protection from the Goddess. Tariana’s fine. She just needs rest to get over a tiny concussion. Honestly, she did more damage to Ava than vice versa.”</p><p>It’s a weight off Louis’ shoulders. “Okay. Good. That’s good. What… what happened to Ava, then?”</p><p>“She’s in the dungeons. My parents are deliberating on what to do with her. Her own parents are stricken, of course, begging us not to have their daughter executed.”</p><p>Louis imagines that it might be a bit of a shock to wake up to your daughter having attempted to murder a foreign prince.</p><p>“I don’t think she should be executed,” says Louis.</p><p>Harry exhales a long breath. “Nor do I. But we don’t know what to do with her. Technically, she committed treason. She was collaborating with a few of those people who don’t want a foreigner as my chosen.”</p><p>“Fuck,” sighs Louis. She really did get herself into a mess. “I’ll think on it. I’ll think of something, okay? Please don’t let any decisions be finalised until I’m there.”</p><p>Harry gives him a fond look. “I’ll do my best, love.”</p><p>They’re interrupted by the grumble of Louis’ stomach. Zayn jumps up.</p><p>“You must be starving! I’ll get you some food, okay? Stay right there. Harry, watch him, please.”</p><p>“I’m not a child,” protests Louis.</p><p>“Sorry, Lou, you clearly can’t be trusted alone after what happened last night.”</p><p>Harry scoffs a little. “He has a personal guard just outside,” he says, as if the concept of Louis being left alone is laughable. “He isn’t going anywhere alone, even if he wants to.”</p><p>“<em>What</em>?”</p><p>*</p><p>When Zayn leaves, and they’re finally alone, Louis and Harry kiss for a long time. It’s gentle, mouths soft, reassuring each other that they’re there, that they’re okay. When they pull away, Harry presses the most tender kiss to Louis’ bonding spot. It feels like a promise.</p><p>“You can leave tomorrow, if you want,” says Harry, breath hot and damp on Louis’ skin.</p><p>A little dazed from the kiss, Louis can’t quite comprehend what Harry’s saying. “What?”</p><p>“The snow’s melting. Your carriage can get through, now,” says Harry. When Louis looks up, frowning, Harry avoids his gaze, eyes bright with tears. “You’ll be able to see your family again. I know how you miss them.”</p><p>“What if I don’t want to?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What if I don’t want to leave?” asks Louis. He climbs onto Harry’s lap, and takes his face in his hands. “Darling, look at me. I don’t want to leave.”</p><p>Harry shakes his head. “You went through something traumatic, Louis, and it happened right under our noses. I can’t— I can’t let you stay here when it’s clearly unsafe. Even if that’s all I want.”</p><p>Louis’ eyes crinkle with the force of his smile. “Alright, love. Then you’ll just have to come home with me. Because I don’t want to leave you.”</p><p>A single tear rolls down Harry’s cheek even as he turns to kiss the palm of Louis’ hand. “Are you sure? Please, don’t— don’t get my hopes up if you aren’t sure.”</p><p>“Harry,” sighs Louis. “I may not believe in your goddess, but your faith makes me believe in us. You’re a good, strong, kind alpha, and even if this entire fate thing is fake, I want us to try. Okay? I think we could… I really think we could be something great. And that’s because you convinced me. Not because of a prophecy. Yeah? Last night I was… I wasn’t in a good place. When I came to you. Now, I want to try.”</p><p>Harry, at a loss for words, just kisses him again. And again. And again.</p><p>“Fuck, Louis. Thank you. My omega. My beautiful, darling boy.”</p><p>Louis holds Harry tight, and presses a kiss to his hair, revelling in the contentment rolling off his alpha.</p><p>“Yours, love. Yours.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>look i'm prob gonna do an epilogue later bc there r a couple of little things i need to tie up i just didn't have time this go around so prob subscribe if ur interested in that ! lmk what u thought ! thank u for reading ! if u want to chat, my tumblr's louisisworthit.tumblr.com x oh and it would be so cool if u reblogged the <a>fic post!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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